Voldemort's Choice
by SilverPhoenixRising
Summary: Lily, James, and eleven year old Harry Potter had the perfect life, but when Voldemort discovers his wrong choice in the prophecy, everything seems to go wrong.
1. Chapter 1

On that fateful night so many years ago, Voldemort chose another to be his equal—a decision that would save his life and kill the boy he chose. Ten years later, Harry James Potter is celebrating his eleventh birthday and couldn't be happier, until his parents, James and Lily Potter, get called away on assignment…and never return. Harry getting sorted into Slytherin was the last straw for him. If no one can pull Harry out of his slum, then the wizarding world will be facing their greatest nightmare—a dark wizard far more powerful than anything they have ever seen before. Voldemort's choice could completely alter the course of history.

Chapter One

Harry flew around aimlessly on his broom. It was a hot, muggy morning in July, and also it happened to be Harry's eleventh birthday. This birthday was a very special birthday to Harry, as he would be getting his letter to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry if he would be getting it at all. That was why instead of sleeping in like most normal boys would do he was outside, riding his broom, on the lookout for any owls that were headed his way. So far, he had no luck. Harry was just about to give up when he felt a gentle weight added to the back of his broom. He looked around and sure enough, there was an owl—looking very important—on the back of his broom.

Happily, Harry snatched up the letter it was carrying, and, with an indignant hoot, the owl flew off. Quickly, Harry landed the broom and dashed inside. He was waving the letter in the air in triumph.

"It's here! It's here! I got my letter!" Harry said when he got to the kitchen. His mother was at the stove, frowning at him slightly, and his father was at the table with his newspaper and a cup of coffee.

"Harry, how many times must I tell you not to go outside and fly your broom, or do anything else, without telling one of us first?" his mother said with a sigh and a shake of her head.

"You really should listen to your mother, Harry," his father said, but by the way he was looking at him over his newspaper, Harry knew he wasn't actually upset with him. "Now what's this about a letter?"

"I got it! I got it! My Hogwarts letter is here!" Harry said, waving the envelope in the air again.

"Well, then sit down and open it up, my boy!" Mr. Potter said with a chuckle. Harry obeyed, and his mother came to sit down at the table, too.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

"Well that's wonderful Harry. We'll take you on a trip to Diagon Alley this weekend to get your supplies, and I'll get right on that reply," his mother, Lily Potter, said as she got up to search for a piece of parchment and a quill. James clapped Harry on the back.

"Well done, son, you'll be a Gryffindor just like your old man and your Uncles, won't you?" James said proudly. Harry grinned and nodded vigorously.

"I don't want to be anything else," Harry said firmly. James smiled.

"That's my boy," he said. "Happy Birthday, Harry," said James. Suddenly, a blur or red ran through the kitchen. James stopped the blur that happened to be Harry's younger sister by one year, Rose. "Whoa, slow down there, little one. Where's the fire?" Rose only panted from running around and then held out a lumpy package to Harry.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," she said. Harry smiled and took the odd gift from her. It was, he discovered after he unwrapped it, a very poorly made ceramic bowl. It was obviously her attempt at making something artistic however, and she had probably tried really hard.

"I love it, thank you Rose," Harry said, giving his little sister a hug.

"You're welcome, Harry," she said. Harry put the bowl on the kitchen. If you squinted, he reasoned, it didn't look so bad. It wasn't as if his sister wasn't artistic—no, she was incredibly talented, but all of her artistic ability came in her music. When it came to drawings and ceramics, however, her artistic talent suddenly vanished. This made the pot all the more meaningful, however, because she obviously had wanted to make something for him that he would like, not something that she would like.

"That was very, erm, sweet of you Rose," James said, looking at the lumpy, misshapen bowl. Harry rolled his eyes. His father just didn't understand the point of giving gifts from the heart, except when it came to his wife, of course. Harry figured his Mom must've trained his Dad somehow, because he never got flashy gifts for her, but instead he got things he knew she would genuinely like and use. With Harry and Rose, however, it was a completely different story. Lily came back into the room.

"The owl is sent. Oh, Harry, I want to get you your supplies next weekend, but would you like to come on a shopping trip with me to Diagon Alley? I just realized we're out of--," Lily began, but Harry interrupted her.

"Sure, Mum. I'd love to," Harry replied. Rose made a sour face.

"Why can't I go, too?" she asked. James hugged her around the shoulders.

"Because you need to stay home and clean your room," he said. Rose scowled even deeper, but she did not protest further. Instead, Rose just went off to her room to clean.

"Well, Harry, I suppose we'll travel by Floo, then," Lily said and threw some powder into the fireplace. The flames turned green and his mother stepped through, yelling "Diagon Alley!"

"Have a good trip, Harry," James said, and then he went back to reading his paper before Harry followed his mother.

When they arrived in Diagon Alley, his mother gave him some money. It was her tradition on his birthday to sneak him out to Diagon Alley and let him buy one birthday present that he picked out himself. She then made him promise to meet her at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor at two o'clock and set him loose upon the innocent people of Diagon Alley. Needless to say, this was a bad idea from the beginning. Harry headed over to the Quality Quidditch Supply shop first thing of course. Many other boys had their noses pressed up against the glass window outside, gawking at the new Nimbus 2000. Harry shrugged off the urge to join them and instead went inside the shop. Inside there were fewer people. There was the store clerk as well as a blonde boy that looked about Harry's age. Harry was milling about the different Quidditch things when he bumped into the boy—quite literally.

"Oh," said the boy, not even bothering to apologize that he had run right into Harry, "Excuse me." The boy looked Harry up and down. "First year at Hogwarts?" Harry nodded. The boy then said very snobbishly, "First years aren't allowed their own brooms. It's against the rules." Harry just looked at the boy in a highly annoyed fashion.

"I know that. It's my birthday, and I'm allowed to get one present that I pick out," Harry said. The other boy looked at him.

"Oh. Your family is wizarding, then?" when Harry nodded, the other boy gave a slick smile. "Oh, well then, I'm Draco Malfoy. And you are?" He said, holding out his hand for Harry to shake. Harry hesitated, but he took his hand anyway.

"Harry Potter. It's nice to meet you. So what are you doing here?" Harry said. Draco shrugged.

"Just looking around, I guess. I'm going to try to convince Father to get me a broom, but he's been quite stubborn lately," Draco said, looking contemplative.

"I'm sure you'll figure out something," said Harry.

"I know I will. I just don't know what," Draco said. Harry looked out the window to see his Mother standing there, not looking happy, just as a tall, blonde man walked in and up to Draco.

"Ah, Draco, I was wondering where you were. And who is your…friend?" said the man, presumably Draco's father. Just looking at him Harry was no longer sure if Draco would be able to convince him to buy the broom he wanted.

"Father, this is Harry Potter. It's his Birthday today, and he came here to get something. Harry, this is my Father," Draco said cordially. Harry nodded.

"Hello, Sir," Harry said, glancing out the window at his mother, who looked stark-raving mad. Harry didn't like to see his mother mad—or his sister, for that matter. Harry figured it had something to do with the combination of them being girls as well as redheads. Mr. Malfoy looked down at the boy hard.

"Oh, it's your birthday, is it? Your eleventh?" he said. Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Erm, yes, Sir. Actually I just came in here to get something I wanted, and now I need to go," Harry said nervously. Mr. Malfoy nodded.

"Right, no need to make your mother outside worried. Have a happy Birthday," Mr. Malfoy said before Harry dashed out.

"What WERE you doing in there for so long? I told you to meet me at two and it's TWO-THIRTY! If you weren't as predictable as your Father, I could have spent hours searching for you--," Lily ranted. Harry listened politely, looking ashamed in all the right spots. Finally, they got home to arrive to a huge surprise party—though, it wasn't a surprise since they did the same thing every year; they carted him off to Diagon Alley then got ready for his party and then he came back, supposedly surprised.

Since Harry didn't have many friends due to his home schooling, it was mainly just his family and two "Uncles," Remus and Sirius, or Moony and Padfoot as his father liked to call them.

"Happy Birthday, kiddo," Sirius said, messing up Harry's already impossibly unruly hair, (to which Lily always said to James, "I knew it. I KNEW messing with you hair that often would do something to you. Look what it did; it messed up your genes and NOW who has to suffer from it? That's right, your son, because his hair won't lie flat if you try to plaster it to his head.") and giving him his present. Harry opened it happily. It was, of course, a spectacular Quidditch poster of Harry's favorite team, the New England Lions. It was even signed at the bottom by the team's seeker. How Sirius obtained this, Harry had no idea, but at the moment he really didn't care.

"Wow! That's wicked awesome!" Harry exclaimed and gave his Godfather a hug. "Thanks, Sirius."

"No problem, mini-Prongs," Sirius said with a laugh. When Harry was finished with hugging Sirius, Remus handed him his present. Of course, being practical Remus had bought him something useful and cool. It was a Defense Against the Dark Arts book signed by the author, a famous Auror who was an incredible contributor to the fight against Lord Voldemort. After Remus got hug and thank you, Harry proceeded to the rest of his gifts from his parents. For a summary he got lots of Quidditch things (from his Father) and lots of books on magic and such (from his mother). The one gift that his Mother and Father had both agreed on getting for him was a beautiful snowy owl, which Harry named Hedwig. All in all, Harry had thought he had had a really great birthday. A few days later he would be wishing he had all of this back.

That terrible started out as a normal night at home in the Potter house. Rose was in the study practicing her violin, Lily was making dinner on the stove, and Harry was reading his new Defense Against the Dark Arts book. It was a stormy night and very cozy at the Potter household. What should have been a very good night at the Potter home turned out to be the worst night in many, many years.

James popped into the house, obviously cold, wet and rainy. He looked very sullen.

"Hard day at work?" Lily asked sympathetically. James just nodded and collapsed onto the couch that Harry wasn't laying on.

"Torture. Murder. Literally," James said. Harry's father was an auror, and therefore he often dealt with Voldemort and his followers.

"Oh, I'm sorry, James," Lily said, turning off the heat on the pot and coming the rub his shoulders. James shrugged her off.

"No, I'm fine. I need to change out of these wet clothes anyway. We have a meeting tonight, you know," James said. Lily looked concerned.

"Is it urgent? I don't remember us planning one for tonight…" Lily said, trailing off. James nodded grimly.

"Dumbledore says he has some urgent news for us—just us. It's a meeting just for us," James said. Lily's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Why just for us?" she asked. James shrugged and sighed.

"I don't know Lily, and quite frankly I don't think I want to know. I'm going to go change," James said.

"But, who will take care of the kids?" Lily asked.

"They're old enough to be on their own for a couple of hours. Now, I really am going upstairs to change," James said, and with that he carried out the action. Lily still looked very concerned.

"You'll watch your little sister, won't you Harry? We should only be gone two hours at the most," Lily said. When James came back downstairs, he said it was time to go. "There's dinner on the stove. If it gets cold, just heat it up in the microwave." Harry nodded. As he watched his parents leave, he became increasingly concerned. Why were they leaving? Why was that meeting just for them? And most importantly, what was it about?

It was over four hours later that finally his mother and father came in through the fireplace, looking more exhausted than he had ever seen them. Harry had been sitting on the couch reading again, waiting for them to come home. He had already gotten himself and Rose dinner, and he had put her to bed. Now, Harry jumped up.

"Mom? Dad? Are you okay?" he asked. James just shook his head.

"Never you mind, Harry. We'll be fine. Are you already packed for school?" James asked. Harry looked at him, puzzled, and nodded. James sighed with relief and despair. "Good boy. Go upstairs and get your sister packed." Harry looked at his father in confusion.

"But Dad, she isn't going to Hogwarts, is she?" Harry asked, mortified by the idea that his sister would be at Hogwarts in his year. James shook his head.

"No, Harry. Just be a good boy and get your sister packed," he said. Confused but obedient, Harry went into Rose's room. He shook her gently.

"Rose. Rose, get up," Harry said, but Rose just rolled over and swatted him away. "Rose, just get up, you have to pack." Rose sat up and yawned sleepily.

"Pack? What for? I'm not going to Hogwarts," Rose said groggily, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"I don't know, but Mom and Dad want you and I packed. So come on, let's pack," Harry said. He went into the bathroom to get things he knew she'd need, like a toothbrush while he let her handle her clothes. Rose was so tired, just wasn't bothering to fold anything. She just rolled up whatever she got and threw it in her trunk.

"All right, I'm packed. Now what? What's going on, Harry?" Rose demanded. Harry didn't answer, though, due to his lack of knowledge. He just went downstairs and informed his parents that they were both packed. James nodded grimly.

"All right," he said and got up. He went upstairs and shrunk both of their trunks, putting them in his pocket. "Let's go." Extremely upset by all of this as well as puzzled, Harry and Rose followed after their Father and Mother into the car.

Harry wasn't sure how long they were driving for, and quite frankly he didn't care. It was two in the morning, his sister was shivering in her pajamas, it was storming hard outside, and he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. It didn't help that he had been driving in the car for the past two hours or so, and his father and mother both looked extremely upset, though they weren't speaking. Eventually they pulled up to this crazy looking house that was so tall and rickety it must have been held up by magic. The backyard was fenced in and Harry could hear chickens clucking. They all got out and went onto the porch, Harry in his rumpled day clothes and Rose freezing in her pajamas and bare feet.

James rang the doorbell, and a tall, slightly balding man answered.

"Ah James, yes, my wife and I were expecting you. Can you come in?" the man asked. Harry's father shook his head.

"No, I'm sorry Arthur, we can't. Here they are, I'm assuming Dumbledore told you everything?" James asked the man.

"Almost everything—you know Dumbledore. Well, the children can come in at least, then," Arthur stated, about to usher them inside.

"Hang on, Arthur," James said. He bent down to Harry's level and grasped him by the shoulders. "We've been called away on an assignment, Harry. We'll need to leave you here. We aren't sure how long it's going to take, but in case we aren't back in time for you to go to Hogwarts, I just want to say your Mother and I love you very much and we are very, very proud of you. You'll need to stay here until we come back, though. This is Mr. Weasley. He and his wife will take care of you and Rose until we come back," he said.

Harry was shocked, an assignment from the Order? This wasn't too uncommon for his Father—Harry had spent many sleepless nights worrying about his father's safe return. This time it was different though. It obviously wasn't a quick assignment, and this time BOTH of his parents would be gone.

"But, when will you be back? What about Christmas?" Harry asked worriedly. James smiled at him.

"Don't worry about that Harry, we'll be back before you know it, and at Christmas we'll have dinner with Moony and Padfoot like we always do." James gave Harry a hug. "Be strong Harry, and know that your Mother and I are always proud of you, no matter what."

Rose was crying, and her father and she said their goodbyes as Harry and his mother said their goodbyes. His mom—who was obviously in a state of terrible worry—then moved on to Rose. When they were finished James looked Arthur right in the eye and said,

"You're a good man Arthur. Thank you for doing this for us." Arthur just smiled at him.

"Oh, it's no trouble at all. Molly loves the idea of taking two new ones in for a while," Arthur said. James then shook his hand, gave him their shrunken trunks and a key, and then Harry and Rose waved goodbye to their parents, for what Harry had a sinking feeling in his heart about, the last time.

"Well then," Mr. Weasley was the first to speak up, "Let's get you out of the rain now, shall we? Molly would have a fit if she knew you'd been standing out here all this time." Unhappily the Potter children obliged. The kids were led to the kitchen where Mr. Weasley told them to sit down. He gave them both some hot tea and told them that Mrs. Weasley would be down in a minute. "She's waking up the kids," Mr. Weasley explained.

"Oh, well, how many are there?" Rose asked.

"Oh, seven, but only five are with us right now," Mr. Weasley said. Harry could have sworn he saw Rose choke on her tea, but she artfully covered that.

"Oh, that's nice," Rose said politely. A minute later a short, plump lady who looked very cheerful walked in, followed by two boys who were wiping their eyes of sleep.

"Mum, what's going on? It's two in the morning," asked one boy who was coming down the stairs.

"Oy, yeah, Percy needs his beauty sleep," said one of the boys who had followed Mrs. Weasley in.

"George, be nice to your older brother. We have two guests with us," Mrs. Weasley scolded the boys. It was the first time the three boys seemed to notice Harry and Rose's presence.

"Blimey, who are you?" asked the one boy who hadn't spoken yet.

"That will be explained when your brother and sister get down here. What on Earth is taking them so long?" Mr. Weasley asked. At that exact moment a gangly redheaded boy (they were ALL redheads) and girl came down the stairs. The boy looked to be Harry's age, and the girl must have been in Rose's year. "Ah, there you two are. Now I can explain. This is Harry and Rose Potter. Their parents have an assignment to run, and so they will be staying with us until Harry leaves for his first year at Hogwarts, and Rose will be with us until their parents return," Mr. Weasley explained. "So, introductions. This is my wife, Molly Weasley, my third son, Percy, the two twins, Fred and George—watch out for them, they like to prank people--, Ron, he'll be a first year at Hogwarts this year too, and this is Ginny, she's your age, Rose."

No one was really sure what to say—after all, what do you say to two children you've never met nor heard of before who come to your house to stay because their parents have gone on a mission to help defeat Voldemort?—until Fred and George piped up with,

"Yes!"

"New test subjects!"

Which caused much of the ice to be broken as Mrs. Weasley went back to scolding, Ginny and Ron decided to start laughing, and Percy took a seat, introducing himself formally to the two as Hogwarts' new prefect (to which the twins decided to pick on him again), and everything became much more lively in the Weasley household. Eventually Mrs. Weasley gave up refereeing the fights and trying to get everyone to bed.

"All right, since we're all up already all of you get out of the kitchen and go do something productive—I'll start breakfast," Mrs. Weasley said. It was then that Harry learned this was an obviously unconventional—but very pleasant—family. He could get used to this, as long as it were only temporary.

"Hey Harry, want to play a round of exploding snap?" the twins invited him. Harry grinned.

"Sure," he replied, and thus began his first day with his new family.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

Over the next few weeks Harry missed his parents, but for the most part he felt as if he were just spending the rest of the summer at an old friend's house, even if he had never met Ron and his brothers (and little sister) before. Most of the time they went outside and played Quidditch. When it rained, the boys would stay inside and play exploding snap, chess, or the twins would wreak havoc upon the household. Eventually September first rolled around, though Harry was reluctant to face that truth. His parents still weren't home, even though they had estimated that they would indeed be back in time to see him off to Hogwarts. Harry felt the weight of this knowledge lying heavily upon him. What had happened to his mother and father?

Harry followed the Weasleys as he, his sister and they made their way to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The platform was incredibly crowded as usual, and Harry kept accidentally bumping into people or being knocked over by seventh years that didn't notice him—or who just didn't really care.

"Careful, Mate," said George—or was it Fred?—after pulling him up from one such incident. "They're here for their last year—they don't care what first years they knock down. Let's get your trunk into the train—oi, George!" So, it had been Fred speaking. "Let's get this trunk on the train." After much pushing and shoving, everyone's trunks were on the train. Fred and George ran off to be with their friend, Lee Jordan, (who had a curious box with air holes in it that Harry would never, ever stick his hand into) and so Ron and Harry were left to sit in their own compartment.

Even though Harry had been with the Weasleys for about a month he had never really talked to any of them. When they were playing games it was usually the twins who were doing all of the talking, so the silence in the compartment was decidedly awkward.

"So, you like Quidditch?" Ron asked. This was a question Ron knew the answer to. Harry was obviously the best seeker Ron had ever seen. Harry shrugged.

"Yeah," he said indifferently, looking out at the scenery in the window. He hadn't even really said goodbye to Rose or any other Weasleys that were staying home. Harry could dimly remember Mrs. Weasley saying something to Fred and George about blowing up toilets, but he had tuned out. Rose looked remarkably upset at Harry's distant goodbye, but Harry surprisingly found himself not caring.

"Do you like the Chudley Cannons?" Ron asked, trying another stab at making a conversation.

"What?" asked Harry, who had forgotten Ron was talking. "Oh, right, um, not really. I like the London Swoops best." Harry said. Ron looked slightly disappointed.

"Well, what do you think about those new American Eagles?" Ron asked. Harry sighed—he was getting slightly annoyed with Ron. He knew he was only trying to be friendly, as well as not be bored the whole trip, but he really didn't feel like talking. He laughed dryly.

"They're very bad at Quidditch," Harry said.

"Oh," Ron said. He made no other attempts at a conversation, much to Harry's liking. Ron eventually—god forbid—pulled out a book, bored with Harry's lack of loquaciousness. A while into the trip a stout Lady asked if they wanted anything off the trolley. It was filled with candy and sweets. Ron said he had sandwiches. Harry felt too sick with worry and grief to eat anything, so he politely refused. The Lady went away. Not but five minutes later a girl with bushy brown hair came in.

"Has anyone seen a rat? Seamus has lost one," she said in a bossy sort of voice.

"We already told him that we haven't seen it," Ron said in slight annoyance. Harry dimly remembered a boy coming in earlier asking for a rat. He had seemed slightly panicked when Ron said they hadn't seen it. Ron had his wand out now—Harry recalled that he'd said something about a new spell he was trying out, and it looked like he was trying it out on his sandwich.

"Are you doing some magic? Let's see it then," the girl said, bossy still.

"Erm, right then," Ron mumbled and began to wave his wand in a ridiculous fashion while saying "Sunshine, Daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid sandwich yellow." Though, nothing happened.

"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it isn't a very good spell, is it? I'm Hermione Granger by the way, who are you?"

"Ron Weasley," Ron grunted.

"Pleasure," Hermione said in a way that informed Ron that is most certainly was not a pleasure. She turned to Harry. "And you are?"

"Harry. Harry Potter," Harry said, still not looking at the bushy-haired girl.

"Are you really? I've read about your father—or, who I assume is your father, or uncle or some relation—in 'Famous Aurors of the Dark Age' and 'The War Against Evil: A Tale of Voldemort and His Enemies'," Hermione said.

"Fascinating," Harry said tonelessly. He already knew his father was very famous for his work against Voldemort, but at the moment he didn't need the reminder that his Father was not anywhere he knew of, nor was his mother. Hermione seemed taken aback at his lack of interest in anything she had to say.

"Right, well you two should get into your robes—we'll be at Hogwarts soon; I asked the conductor. By the way, you have a little bit of dirt on your nose, just there, did you know?" Hermione said, referring to Ron in her last statement. Then the bossy girl left, Ron wiping his nose slightly self-consciously.

"Mental, that one," Ron said. Harry just rolled his eyes, and then the two changed into their wizard's robes.

Harry hadn't paid much attention to Ron after that, borderline ignoring him completely. He hadn't paid attention to the Half-Giant, Hagrid, who had told the first-years where to go, either, causing Ron to have to drag Harry with him. He hadn't even paid attention to the stern Professor McGonagall when she explained to them what was going on. He had paid attention to the sorting hat some, but he was mainly lost in his own little world, worrying for his parents and not caring at all for the world around him. Finally it was his own turn to step up to the hat.

"Difficult. Very difficult," said a little voice in his ear. "Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes—and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting…So where shall I put you?" Harry said nothing. He could really care less at the moment. What did he need to worry about Hogwarts when his parents could very well be battling Voldemort for their lives this very second? "No preference? None at all? I see you have a great deal of preference, but that is instilled in you by your Uncles, your Father, your Mother. Perhaps its time we shy away from what relatives will say to do what is best for you…no preference still? Well, in that case it better be SLYTHERIN!" The hat said, shouting the last word to the crowd.

Harry heard no clapping as the crowd sat in astonishment. Harry Potter, son of James Potter, a Slytherin? That wasn't possible! Yet Harry couldn't hear anyway as he sat there in shock. Wait, go back, rewind! "I want to be a Gryffindor!" Harry thought loudly.

"Too late now," said the hat in his head. "Go join your table, before you embarrass yourself." Harry just sat on the stool until McGonagall yanked that hat off his head.

"You may sit down now, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said. Numbly, Harry obeyed, taking a seat at the Slytherin table. He never once thought that he would be seated there. There had never been any doubt in his mind that he would be a Gryffindor. Now, the one time when Harry could care less about Houses was the one moment in which he was to be sorted. Harry knew that the hat had taken advantage of him. He had a feeling that that hat had wanted him in Slytherin all along. But, why? What could Slytherin offer him that Gryffindor couldn't, other than utter and total solitude? If that was what the hat was aiming for, then he surely had gotten what he had wanted.

Harry, for lack of a better word, was absolutely miserable. He had quickly learned that no matter if you had lived with someone the entire summer if you were sorted into Slytheirn you were automatically an enemy. He had also quickly learned that none of the Slytherins wre to be trusted—he knew that Malfoy, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson all had parents loyal to Voldemort, but that had enough money to keep them out of jail. Harry knew the wrong sort when he saw it. He quickly made enemies with everyone in his year, as well as enemies with most the rest of the school. He decided to hurl himself into seclusion and his studies. He was always reading about some new spell or tactic and always practicing them, too.

The one beacon of light that Harry saw was that his little sister sent him a letter every other week. They were very sweet, though usually disappointingly short. Harry wrote back to her diligently. It seemed as though while he was loathing every minute of Hogwarts, she was loving every minute at the Burrow. Harry knew that she had quickly latched onto Ginny, the youngest Weasley, but now he knew that they had become best friends. They played games together all day and helped Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen. Harry knew that Rose fit right in with the Weasley family—she even had very Weasley-like red hair. Harry was glad she had made friends. Though, he knew that he had only made enemies.

Harry was enjoying his Potions class with Professor Slughorn one morning when, without warning, his cauldron exploded. It turned out later that Harry had, supposedly, added the asphodel root too soon, but Harry knew better—he knew that Malfoy, who had been sitting nearby, had dropped the root into his potion. Profesor Slughorn had apologized but said that he had to give Harry a zero for the day. Harry sighed. At least he had the Halloween feast that evening to look forward to.

It wasn't until the feast that Harry realized that without friends, the feast was no fun. Harry timidly took pumpkin pastries. He was lying low, and he knew it. He looked wistfully over at the Gryffindor table where Ron was laughing with some of the other Gryffindor boys—boy, what he wouldn't give to be with them. Harry turned back to his own table where even Malfoy, Nott and Parkinson were having fun. Harry sighed. He hated to admit it, but at the moment he would give quite a bit to be with them, too. He took a sip of his pumpkin juice. Perhaps there was someone out there who didn't hate him. Perhaps Ron didn't dislike him as much as he seemed to since he got sorted into Slytherin.

His thoughts were forgotten when suddenly Professor Quirrel, the defense teacher, stumbled in.

"Troll in the dungeon! Troll in the dungeon! Thought you ought to know," he said before he collapsed. Terrified, students began to break their order by screaming and nearly trampling Professor Quirrel to get out of the Hall. Harry was alarmed, but not by the fact that there was a troll inside that could possibly kill someone. No, more of what concerned Harry was how did the troll get in? Trolls were not exactly native to Scotland, and Hogwarts wards in any case were extremely heavy so as to prevent sudden attacks from Voldemort. Harry narrowed his eyes. Unless this was a direct assault from Voldemort himself. Harry did not voice his opinions however—who would have listened to him, anyway?—but instead followed the crowd as they went to their common rooms.

Later that night students were informed that the troll had been successfully thwarted—by four first-year students, as odd as that seemed. Apparently Hermione Granger had gone out after the troll because she thought she could defeat it (this, Harry did not believe. It simply was not characteristic of the bossy know-it-all Gryffindor girl.) and so three other boys, Ron, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan went after her and saved her life. All four were very nearly killed or injured, but by "sheer dumb luck" they were unscathed. Harry was very disturbed by this obvious assault by someone—most likely Voldemort, Harry had come to the conclusion—and was determined to know who exactly was the middle man in it all. Harry got an idea of just who when he saw that Quirrel was doing a fabulous job of covering up an awful limp in his right leg. Harry had to congratulate the actor—he was very good. Just not good enough. Yet, what could he be after that could cause him harm whilst he was getting it? This at least Harry had no answer to.

Harry and the rest of the Weasleys were spending their Christmas break at Hogwarts this year. They were pretty much the only ones, so Harry found the cold emptiness of the Slytherin common room surprisingly welcome. He would often curl up with a book and practice all sorts of magic in the common room. He was doing very advanced spells now, spells that a first-year probably shouldn't even be looking into trying.

The Weasleys pretty much ignored him all Christmas break, which suited Harry just fine as he locked himself in his dormitory to—he would admit this to no one, and felt ashamed at himself—cry. His parents had been so sure that they would have returned by Christmas. What could it mean, now that they weren't yet home? Harry didn't want to think about it. When he wasn't crying, he was throwing all of his energy and emotions into researching. He knew he had finally reached seventh year spells and had begun to fell slightly arrogant about it. After all, how many first years could cast spells that even some seventh years would have trouble with?

On Christmas day Harry woke to see some presents under the tree in the Slytherin common room. He smiled lightly—at least people back home cared about him. He received various items from Sirius, Remus, Rose and Mrs. And Mr. Weasley. Harry's heart sunk as he saw the presents—they only reminded him that not only were his parents gone, but Christmas was not as it had been since he had been so little. They were not back home in Godric's Hollow, not around the giant, ornate dining room table. They were not laughing and singing carols or opening presents around a brightly decorated tree. There was no Sirius, Remus, Rose, Mom or Dad. It was only Harry in his lonely little House in his lonely little room. That was when Harry once again curled up into a little ball, and for the last time in his life, he cried.

It was late in the year when Harry received his first detention. Harry simply could not restrain himself when Malfoy made a crack about his parents, and so Harry made sure that his nose made a crack as well. For this, Professor McGonagall, who had seen him break Malfoy's nose, gave him a week's detention. His first detention, surprisingly, was with Malfoy, Hermione and Ron. Apparently Malfoy had concocted some ridiculous story about Hermione and Ron smuggling a dragon to the Astronomy Tower. Malfoy, due to his warning the Deputy Headmistress had been caught out of bed after hours, was assigned a detention as well as Hermione and Ron, who, though not caught with a dragon, were caught out of bed.

So, it was with the three of them that Harry traveled down to Hagrid's Hut, led by Filch on a clear night. Somehow, though, Harry felt something was not right. The two Gryffindors and two Slytherins arrived at Hagrid's Hut. The Half-Giant welcomed Hermione, Ron and even Harry warmly and then they set off into the Forbidden Forest.

"The forest?" Malfoy nearly shrieked in fright. Harry rolled his eyes—Malfoy was such a big baby. "But there are werewolves and stuff like that in there!" Hagrid just grunted, ignored Malfoy and told the children their instructions.

"Summat in the forest 'as been hurtin' the Unicorns. There's one 'round here that we need to put outta its misr'y, poor creature. Bleedin' all over the place. Send up green sparks if ya find it, live or dead, it don't matter. Send up red sparks if you find summat else—or if summat else finds ye," Hagrid said. "Now then. Ron, 'ermione, you two come with me, Malfoy, 'arry, you two go with Fang." Harry nodded curtly. Malfoy and he set off, insulting each other all the way until they could no longer see Hagrid. Once Hagrid was out of sight, however, Malfoy chickened out in his thoughts that they might be heard and both boys went silent.

The two boys had been walking for quite a while when they came across a glistening white in the dirt of the forest. The unicorn's mane and tail were entangled in sticks, burrs and other brush. It was beautiful, and yet terribly sad. A gash in its side bled silver blood. Harry looked at the creature in pity. What a waste of a beautiful life, a beautiful creature. It wasn't but a second later that the hair rose on the back of his neck. A creepy looking figure rippled across the ground, came to the unicorn's side…and drank its blood.

"AAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!"

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and ran away, Fang right behind him, leaving Harry quite alone with this dark creature. At first, Harry thought that perhaps the monster with a rippling cloak was a lethifold, but Harry remembered that Lethifolds do not drink the blood of creatures but rather swallow them whole, much like a snake. No, that was when Harry realized that this creature was something much more evil than a lethifold—and it was coming right towards him.

Just as the creature was a foot away from him, something jumped over Harry's head and charged at the evil monster, scaring it away. Harry looked up at the thing that had saved him. A Centaur, he decided upon looking at the half-man half-horse creature.

"Are you all right?" asked the centaur. Harry nodded.

"Yes, thank you for saving me from that, that thing. What was that anyway?" Harry asked. The centaur shook his head.

"Later. At the moment we must get you out of this evil place. Climb upon my back, Mr. Harry Potter, and I will return you to your group," said the centaur. Harry obeyed.

"How do you know my name? And what is yours?"

"Firenze," was what he said. "That creature. You know the dark one, yes? The one that roams this Earth still." Harry frowned for a moment, but then he nodded in dawning comprehension. The centaur must mean Voldemort. "Danger has come upon Hogwarts, young Potter. Do you know what lies in the third floor corridor?" Harry shook his head. He had almost forgotten that such a corridor existed, since it had been forbidden since the start of term. "The greatest—and most terrible—work of Nicolas Flamel lies within the castle. Heed my words, young Mr. Potter. Mars is bright tonight." With that, Firenze put Harry down on the ground. "This is as far as I take you. Your group is not far from here. Goodbye, Mr. Potter." Firenze ran off, leaving Harry staring after him.

Harry paced in his common room, puzzling out what Firenze had said. He had been referring to Voldemort, that far Harry had gotten. He must also have been talking about the Philosopher's Stone, for that was most certainly the famous alchemist's greatest work. The third floor corridor…It all was slowly making sense, though parts didn't add up. Harry frowned in agitation. If what Firenze said was true, then something bad was going to happen to that stone that night, Harry was sure of it. He grabbed his invisibility cloak—there was only one way to find out, and only one way to save it.

Harry arrived in the corridor to hear a harp playing by itself in the corner of the room. Directly in front of him was a giant, three-headed dog that must have been from Hades himself. The creature was sleeping, however, so, shrugging, Harry opened the trapdoor he observed on the floor, and after a deep breath he jumped through.

Harry immediately knew he'd landed in some sort of a plant, though he wasn't sure what until he tried to get up and it simply constricted him back down. Harry grumbled but then went completely still when he realized it was Devil's Snare. The plant let go of him and he fell to the floor. Harry dusted himself off and casually went on to the next room.

This room was filled with keys with wings and only a few broomsticks. Harry sighed as he mounted. This could take a while, though he hadn't played seeker back home for nothing. It only took him five minutes to chase down the right key and exit the room, and when he entered the next room he found no challenge as, what Harry assumed used to be, the giant chess pieces were blown to pieces by an obviously powerful spell. A powerful blasting spell, perhaps, Harry thought with interest. He walked across the chess board casually and went to the next room.

This next room also presented no challenge as the troll that resided there was clearly either dead or knocked unconscious. Harry narrowed his eyes at the creature as he progressed into the next room.

The next room was where the true challenge lay, Harry knew that once he stepped in and found Professor Quirrel standing before a mirror. He seemed to be puzzled by it and kept on walking around it. Harry glared at the professor—he thought that perhaps the Professor had something to do with this after the incident on Halloween.

"Stand aside," Harry said forcefully. If he was going to protect the stone, he needed to find it and obviously this mirror was the key. Professor Quirrel looked up; he actually looked slightly surprised. Harry suspected that this was due to fact that a student had, not only gotten all the way down here but was now commanding him to get out of his way.

"Potter. I'm surprised to see you here," Quirrel said bitingly.

"Funny, I'm not surprised to see you here," Harry said dryly. He supposed that he should be frightened right now, that he should have been frightened in the forest, that he should have been frightened on his way down, but quite frankly he wasn't. Harry had lost most emotion since Christmas, though he wasn't completely certain why. He shrugged it off for the moment. Now he had an annoying Professor standing in his way of protecting the stone, and that irked Harry. Quirrel was not so good at hiding his emotions—or rather having a lack of them—as Harry was, and so his face showed obvious surprise when Harry was sarcastic right back at him. Suddenly Quirrel became angry with Harry and grabbed him by the neck.

"Listen here boy, you know how to get that stone, and I'd like it for my Master, so you will get the stone for me you insolent little--," Quirrel then jerked away in horror as his hand turned red from being raw. He screamed. What magic is this? However, the pain seemed not to deter Quirrel, only make him more angry. "Listen you little cretin," he said, grabbing back on despite the pain. Harry was fighting him back with all of his might, but to little avail. "We have your filthy parents, and if you ever wish to see them again, you will get this stone for me--," but Quirrel never got to finish what he was saying, as at the mention of his parents and Voldemort having captured them, Harry suddenly snapped. He grabbed Quirrel's throat and began to cut off his air as much as his own air was being cut off. The two struggled against each other, each desperate to strangle the other. They went in front of the mirror, and very briefly Harry saw himself but a blood-red stone in his pocket and then he felt it fall into his own, real pocket. Not but a few seconds later however, Quirrel passed out from the pain of his hands and neck as well as strangulation. Harry quickly relinquished his hold as he collapsed as well, gasping for breath.

Harry turned over in his nice warm bed. It was that, more than anything that startled Harry. This was not his bed from the Slytherin dormitories. No, this was a bed in the…Hospital Wing? Harry opened his eyes, and sure enough he was in the Hospital Wing. Harry blinked, and when he looked to his side he saw the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, sitting on the side of his bed without the usual twinkle in his eyes. He seemed to be studying him.

"Good morning, Harry. You gave us all quite a scare. Disappearing, and not knowing you were gone until your first class the next morning. No one knowing where you were, except perhaps a confused pair of Weasley twins I'm sure you know. I'm glad you're all right—you've been asleep for three days," Dumbledore said. Harry just shrugged.

"Oops," he said. "Sorry. I had to go save a stone from an evil wizard, and possibly from the most evil and powerful wizard to walk the Earth. My apologies." Harry said sarcastically. If Dumbledore detected the sarcasm, he did not acknowledge it.

"Yes, you did, didn't you. What a fine job you did, too. We were able to find you safe with the stone in you pocket," Dumbledore said.

"That's good to know. What happened to Quirrel?" Harry asked. Dumbledore looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Well, Harry, we found that great portions of his skin were burned and he had been strangled. He died due to not being found until the next morning. There was nothing to be done once we found him—he was already dead," Dumbledore said. Harry nodded curtly. He had killed a mad. He, Harry James Potter, had blood on his hands at age eleven. Dimly he wondered if he was supposed to feel remorse for it, because he really didn't. "Well. I meant to keep this a secret between you and me, this whole ordeal, so naturally, the whole school knows." Harry nodded again. That was really no surprise. He was already infamous, and his being missing had probably caused a great gossip line to form. Harry looked over at Dumbledore—he was studying him again. Harry looked away.

"When were you planning on telling me that you had lost contact with my parents? That they were captured by Voldemort? When were you planning on telling me that they are most likely dead?" Harry asked, his gaze coming back on Dumbledore, accusing and piercing. Harry had known this man most of his life and had often seen him as a great man, but now Harry only saw him as the enemy who had taken his parents away from him and then lied about it. Dumbledore sighed.

"I had hoped that they were merely being careful and not owling. I was not aware until yesterday that they had been captured, most likely for a few months. I'm sorry, Harry." Harry's deathly gaze turned away from him.

"Of course you are. If you don't mind, I need my rest, Professor," Harry said, almost laughing at himself for the irony that he had been unconscious for three days but he needed rest. Dumbledore nodded somberly.

"Very well. Feel better, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said, and then he left. Harry looked to the ceiling. He truly hoped he would never have to see that man again.

"Harry!" Rose squealed as she spotted him at Platform 9 and ¾. Harry grinned, picked up his little sister and twirled her around.

"Rose! Well, look at you, you must've grown five feet since last I saw you," he said teasingly. Rose grinned.

"Yup, I grew. C'mon Harry, it's time to go home!" Rose said, and smiling she took his hand. Harry smiled at her softly. How he wished that were true. How he wished that were true; but Harry left his home back in Godric's Hollow, and he knew that now he could never return. After all, Godric's Hollow was no place for Slytherins. Godric's Hollow was no place for cold-blooded murderers. Godric's Hollow was also most certainly no place for the most powerful young wizard since Voldemort himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three 

Harry's summer was much better than his school year. Now that he was with the Weasleys, free of any house separation, Ron would actually speak to him. His older brothers, too, were far more accepting at home than they were at school. Harry accepted this summer friendship tentatively—he thought that it was a little two-faced to like someone out of school but detest them in school, yet he decided that they were friends anyway and beggars could not be choosers.

Harry also enjoyed hanging out with his little sister. She didn't seem a bit disturbed that her parents had not returned for a year. She was always bright and happy and cheerful. Harry really loved and admired her for her strength. He would often sit outside by the lake while Ginny and Rose would show him their latest dance routine. Harry thought that they were both very cute little girls and it was very funny because the two of them looked so immensely alike that they could almost be twins. He cherished those Saturday mornings out by the lake.

He could still accept the love of a family, and that was something that showed Harry that he was not heartless. Indeed, he was not yet heartless. He still had a soul, still had a heart. Although he was terribly stoic most of the time, he would still laugh and smile with his dysfunctional new family. Then something terrible happened—his parents were to have an official funeral.

The Order of the Phoenix had suddenly given up all hope. After several failed rescue attempts they declared the two Potters dead. Their funeral was to be held on a dreary Monday morning. Harry awoke at six that morning and went into Ginny and Rose's shared bedroom. He knocked gently on the door.

"Come in," Rose said groggily. Harry noticed that she was still in her pajamas while he was fully dressed in a suit and tie.

"Why aren't you ready yet, you goof?" Harry asked, shaking his head. Rose peered up at him in confusion. Harry just shook his head and rummaged through her trunk. He pulled out her nicest black dress, white stockings and little black shoes. "Get dressed. I'll be back up in ten minutes." Harry left the room, Rose looking after him.

Harry realized later why Rose had been so confused earlier that morning—she hadn't wanted to admit where she was going or why. They were at the little chapel back in Godric's Hollow for their parent's funeral. Rose sobbed as silently as she could on Harry's shoulder while Harry remained emotionless through the entire ceremony. So what if they were dead? What did it matter anyway? They had already been gone for a year. He was already used to living without them. Harry remained deadpan through the entire ceremony. He even showed no emotion when Sirius came up to him, embraced him and whispered in his ear, "It's okay to cry, Harry." Harry just shrugged. He was ashamed to cry, that was true, but the thing was that he had no emotions to stimulate the tears. So they were dead. Heck, what did it matter, he'd see them again when he died, so what was the big deal? It was after the funeral that Harry reflected upon his thoughts. It was then that Harry realized with an icy grip on his heart that he was perhaps no longer human.

The rest of that summer passed quickly. Before he knew it, they had taken a trip to Diagon Alley.

"Come on, Harry, let's go look in Quality Quidditch Supplies," Ron said, tugging him toward a store with brooms in the window. Harry rolled his eyes. Quidditch? How juvenile! Sighing impatiently he went with Ron into the store. Several boys were gawking at the new Nimbus 2001, Draco Malfoy included. His father was over at the check out counter. He sauntered up to Harry and Ron.

"Potty. Weasel," Draco acknowledged. The tips of Ron's ears turned a bright, angry red. "I see you've come to admire my new broom? I'm going to make the Quidditch team this year—not like either of you could know anything about Quidditch," he said, trying to taunt them. Ron was lapping up the bait like a dog, but Harry just rolled his eyes.

"Why would we care?" asked Harry. "Just because some people need to play a game that requires no brains to make themselves feel better about how they suck at school doesn't mean that we do." Harry was bored with Malfoy's antics. "Let's go, Ron. I don't know about you, but this place and these people bore me." With that, Harry left the shop, both Malfoy and Ron gaping after him dumbly.

The cool fall air felt good against Harry's skin, though he did not acknowledge it. He just kept walking—he was trying to find a shop that perhaps interested him, yet there was nothing. He walked and walked until he hit a dark little bookshop. Harry looked around him—the streets were more empty, the sky seemed darker, even the cobblestone street had changed color. Was he even still in Diagon Alley? Harry shrugged—what did it matter? He'd finally found an interesting store. Harry walked in. He was the only person in the store it seemed. He wound up through the different aisles of tomes. 'Curses and Hexes of the Dark Ages', 'Potions, Poisons, and Other Nasty Deaths', 'How to Own and Control XXXXX Creatures', 'The Rise of the New Dark Ages' and other titles lined the shelves of the little bookstore. Harry was running his fingers along the spine of one, when someone barked behind him,

"You! Who are you?" It was a little old man. He had a nasty look on his face that could only mean trouble. Harry didn't even blink an eyelash.

"No one of great interest," he said. The bookshop owner eyed his suspiciously for a moment and then looked at the title of the book he had picked out, 'Advanced Spells, Charms and Curses for the Ambitious Young Wizard'.

"You're a Slytherin then, up at that school," the old wizard said gruffly. "Aye, you'll like that one. Follow me." The little old man went across the aisle to another group of shelves. He plucked some books off the shelves. "You'll like these, too." Harry looked at the titles and agreed with the man—he probably would find these books of interest. He paid a hefty price for the stack of books and then, shoving them into his bag with the rest of his school supplies, he left the little store.

"Harry! What d'yeh think yer doin' down here?" Harry turned to see the half-giant, Hagrid, standing over him.

"I was lost," Harry lied easily. "I can't find my way out. Where are we?" Hagrid didn't answer his question, only took him by the scruff of his neck and led him out. He was muttering,

"Skulkin' around in Knockturn Alley, I dunno—dodgy place, Harry—don' want no one ter see yeh down there," he said.

"I told you, I was lost," Harry said impatiently. He made a mental note of the rundown little alley's name. "What were you doing down there?" He countered.

"Lookin' fer a flesh-eatin' slug repellent," Hagrid growled. "They're ruinin' the school cabbages." Harry didn't feel the need to respond, especially as moments later he saw Rose waving to him.

"Harry! Harry, over here!" Rose said. She ran up to Harry, Ginny not far behind her. Harry smiled. He knew that Rose was terribly excited to go to Hogwarts this coming year, and her excitement had only increased when they had come to Diagon Alley for school supplies. "Harry look, I got my wand!" she shrieked with excitement.

"Me too!" said Ginny. Both girls were positively ecstatic as they showed him the sparks that they could shoot with their wands.

"Where've you been, Harry?" asked Rose curiously once their excitement dimmed slightly.

"Oh, around," Harry said. Rose looked at him curiously for a moment, but just then Mrs. Weasley bustled forth.

"Oh there you are dearies! Come, come, it's time we met up with your brothers at Flourish and Botts… Oh, Harry! I thought you were with Ron? Oh, well, come come," she said quickly and herded them like sheep to Flourish and Botts. There was a book signing going on, apparently there was some really famous wizard there named Gilderoy Lockhart. Harry paid no heed to him and went about getting his books—he found that oddly enough all of their defense books were by this Lockhart guy. He snorted as he looked at the blonde man—he didn't look like he had enough brains to keep breathing. He shook his head. That was what the theory of Natural Selection was for—to keep guys like him from wasting space.

"I've got my books," Harry told Ron when he was finished. He was talking with that Granger girl from school—Hermione was her name. They stopped talking.

"Oh, right, erm, would you mind grabbing mine, too?" Ron asked sheepishly. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he said. Hermione looked confused. He could hear them whispering as he went to find copies of the books for Ron.

"Isn't that Harry Potter? That quiet boy from Slytherin?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah. He was orphaned last year, him and his little sister, Rose. They've been living with us," Ron explained reluctantly.

"Oh. Is he nice?" Hermione wanted to know.

"You mean, does he act like an arrogant Slytherin git? Well, he's arrogant, I'll give you that. He's not mean though, and he keeps his nose out of other people's business. He's fun to hang around with sometimes," Ron said. Harry could sense the discomfort in his voice. He felt annoyance rise within himself. So, he was just the poor little orphan boy that his family had to take in. Well, at least he knew now why the Weasleys were so nice to him. It wasn't because he was fun to be around or because he was cool, or even just because he was nice—it was because they felt sorry for him. Harry came close to slamming his books down hard onto the ground, but thought better of it. Fine. If the world had turned its back on him already, then he'd turn his back on the world. He'd show them all that they had absolutely nothing to feel sorry for.

The last two weeks of summer Harry spent very secluded—it wasn't that hard either, as the Weasley boys were rushing to do the homework they'd been assigned over the summer. Harry had already had it all done in the first week of summer, so he had his own time. Since Harry longed for privacy and seclusion yet he had no room of his own, he found privacy by other means—namely, the dead tree. There was a slight forest that surrounded the Weasley's Qudditch Pitch so that the muggles wouldn't see them playing. In the thick of this forest was an old, dead tree that had yet to be cut down. Harry found that this tree offered the perfect seclusion from the world, and therefore he spent those two weeks up in that tree, reading his books from the little bookshop in Knockturn Alley. Harry had discovered quickly why these books had cost him so much—many of the spells it contained were dark, illegal magic. The better half of him cried out not to read them, but Harry had stomped on that half long ago.

Harry enjoyed reading the books, and soon he longed to practice the forbidden magic within. However, he knew he would get a notice for doing underage magic, and therefore withdrew—he would simply go to the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts to practice. Harry had his favorite books from the dark collection, but the most curious one was a blank book. It was small and thin with a black leather cover. It seemed slightly worn, but Harry didn't mind. The only filled out page said T. M. Riddle on it. Harry supposed that this person had been it's former owner. Harry didn't know what he would do with it—perhaps he would use it to take notes about forbidden spells—but he kept it anyway.

Not soon enough, they were on the Hogwarts Express and hurtling towards the school at full speed. Harry was glad—he'd finally be able to do magic again. The lack of doing magic had damaged him, he was so sure. They arrived at Hogwarts and went to the Great Hall where the feast was traditionally held. Harry waited patiently at the Slytherin table for everyone to file in. He knew that soon after everyone was in order the first years would come in. Harry hoped desperately that his little sister would be in his house—yet, he knew very well that she was too good to be a Slytherin. She would be a Gryffindor, hands down. The rest of his Slytherin housemates sat down.

"Enjoyed your summer with the Weasels, did you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Fudge off, Malfoy," Harry snarled right back, only he didn't say 'fudge'. The profane word, however, did not deter Malfoy, as he went on idly insulting him, his parents, the Weasley's and even his sister as if discussing no more than the weather. Harry ignored him just as he had always done. Finally Malfoy shut up when the sorting had begun. It sang a song similar to the year before only slightly varied. 'Pamela Abbathy' 'Hufflepuff' 'James Aberforth' 'Gryffindor'. Harry waited patiently as the names were called. They were down to P's and then his little sister was called up.

"Rose Potter," McGonagall spoke in her clear, concise voice. Rose got up and confidently walked up to the hat and placed it on her head. It didn't take long for the hat to shout out "Gryffindor". Harry could guess what the hat had been debating about, and he was pretty darn sure it wasn't between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Rose's face glowed as she took a seat next to the Weasleys, her new older brothers, Harry thought bitterly. A Slytherin may have taken his parents, but a group of Gryffindors had taken his sister, and Harry found that to be the greater sin. Harry barely listened when all the other names were called. He didn't listen even as all the Weasleys cheered as their little sister made it into Gryffindor. They were cheering because their entire family had made it into one house. Wasn't that just what the Slytherins did? Harry was suddenly finding his house not quite so evil.

Their Professor of Defense that year was an absolute moron. He was that egocentric celebrity from Flourish and Botts and Harry wasn't at all happy to see him teaching possibly the most important subject in school. Since he already knew everything that the idiot could possibly teach him, he often spent that class period with a book on his lap about more advanced dark arts. All he had to do was slip the cover of one of the buffoon's books onto whichever book he felt like reading and the oaf bought it. Only once did he ask Harry to show the class what he was reading. When he did, of course, the class started laughing, accused him of being homosexual and that babbling imbecile just flashed him a smile (a 'Witch Weekly's' five times winning smile, at that) and never bothered him again, which suited Harry just fine. Let the other kids think what they wanted to—perhaps they would leave him alone more if they thought he was even more of a freak. Not that anyone didn't think he was a freak or didn't leave him alone anyway.

Perhaps the only thing interesting that happened to Harry during that class was the day when he decided to use his notebook—or rather, the one that he had gotten for free at the shabby little bookstore. He was just writing down some notes about an excellent little curse—Sectumsempra, it was called—when he realized that the book was sucking in the ink and writing back to him.

'Ah, Secumsempra. A fabulous little curse, if I do say so myself,' the book read. Harry knew that he had not written that line. Quickly, when he was sure that the "professor" wasn't looking, he scrawled,

'What magic is this?' It took a moment for the book to reply.

'A special kind of magic. I could teach it to you, if you'd like.' Harry looked around once again to make sure no one was looking. Some one was looking at him this time—it was that stupid Granger girl. No doubt she was trying to figure out if he'd be willing to compare notes after class or not. He paid her no heed and wrote back anyway.

'Who are you?' The book paused, then wrote back.

'My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. What's yours?'

'Harry,' Harry scrawled. 'Harry James Potter.' It was right then that the bell rang. Harry stood and was going to go straight to the library and skip lunch when that annoying, bushy-haired girl came up to him. He noticed that her friends, Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville were all waiting for her and watching after with awe. Was she bonkers? Who in their right mind would talk to a Slytherin—let alone Lone Wolf Potter, as he had come to be known as.

"Hi, I don't know if you know me but I'm--," Hermione began, Harry cut her off with a laugh.

"Hermione Granger. Of course. It's hard for one not to notice you—you're always sticking your hand up as high as it will go in class. What do you want?" Harry said curtly. Hermione was taken aback by his forward approach.

"I, well, I saw that you're the only other person in class besides me who was taking notes, and I was wondering if we could--," Hermione tried again, but Harry again interrupted.

"Compare. I wasn't taking any damn notes, and what I was doing, quite frankly, isn't any of your business, Granger," Harry said, and stalked off to the library, leaving a stricken Hermione and her equally shocked comrades behind.

Harry found himself learning much from the talking diary over the next couple of weeks. Tom was someone who he could talk to. Tom was someone who understood him because he was much like Harry himself. He taught Harry different Dark spells and how to execute the ones he already knew how to do properly.

'If only I could come out and show you myself,' Tom would muse sometimes. Harry would smile at that.

'I wish,' he'd write back.

It was on Halloween that an intriguing event occurred. Harry had near refused to go to the Halloween feast and even took a nap beforehand on the off-chance that no one would wake him to make him go. Much to his dismay, someone woke him up all right. Harry got his wish though—he hadn't wanted to go to the feast, and now he didn't have to, for in a corridor on the way there was Filch's dead cat. Harry didn't think that this would hold up the feast entirely under normal circumstances, but written above the cat (which was hung by it's tail on a lit torch) was writing in blood that very distinctly said,

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

'Well, that's queer,' Harry thought to himself while a ton of fuss was being made over the stupidest thing—the fact that the Gryfindor second years, or rather just Ron, Hermione and Dean, were there before anyone else. Harry rolled his eyes. Like they would even be possible candidates for doing such a thing. Harry knew that the Granger girl loved cats, Dean was squeamish, and Ron hated spiders. Not one of these qualities indicated the capability to kill a cat. Not only that, but not one of them had a spot of blood on them. Harry on the other hand, saw that his finger was slightly dripping with blood. He looked at it for a moment, 'humphed', said, "Curious." and walked away.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four 

_"Down once more to the dungeons of my black despair, down we plunge to the prison of my mind! Down that path into darkness deep as hell!" _–Phantom, "The Phantom of the Opera"

'So,' Harry wrote, amused, 'you're telling me that there was a chamber built by Salazar Slytherin in which there resides a Basalisk that will one day wreak havoc on the school to cleanse it of the muggle-born students. You also are telling me that you opened this chamber fifty years ago.'

'Correct,' Tom Riddle wrote back to him.

'And,' Harry continued, 'you possessed my body in order to open it once more.' Tom didn't write for a moment, then,

'Clever boy, Harry. When did you figure that out?'

'When I saw the blood on my finger. If you wanted to keep it a secret, you should have made sure I washed it off while under your possession,' Harry wrote, bored. 'It wasn't very nice of you to use me without asking, now was it?'

'Well, you don't seem like you mind that much,' Tom wrote.

'I don't really. You can't have me permanently though, so I suggest you find someone else's life force to steal,' Harry wrote, annoyed.

'I underestimated you,' Tom wrote back. 'You know who and what I am, then?'

'I know you are a horcrux of Voldemort's, yes,' Harry wrote. Again, Tom paused.

'And how do you feel about that?' he asked. Harry thought for a moment.

'I don't,' he wrote. Harry could practically see the pleased smile on Tom's face.

'Good.'

Over the next few weeks, Harry increased his magical defenses. Tom asked him about him, asked him why he didn't trust him. Harry answered that he trusted no one, and Tom was pleased again indeed. Over the course of a couple of months, Harry had been able to call upon the basilisk himself and it had managed to petrify a student so far. By now, everyone in school knew about the legend of the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry's name was the word that floated on everyone's lips whenever they talked about who might be the heir.

"Too quiet…I don't like him. It's either him, or it's Malfoy," he heard one student saying one day.

Not long into the school year, that idiot Lockhart and the potions teacher, Professor Slughorn (who had, last year, inducted Harry into the "slug club" which Harry didn't care much for but attended anyway) conducted what they called the dueling club. Being a part of the slug club, Harry was obligated to go and, unfortunately for him, he got picked to be a display at fighting with, of all people, Malfoy. Harry looked at his enemy calculatingly. Well, at least he could wipe the floor with Malfoy and not get in trouble for it. Harry waited before casting spells after Lockhart said "three". It was only customary to give the enemy a head start if they were more than likely to lose miserably.

"Serpensortia!" Malfoy shouted right off the bat. A black snake exploded out of his wand and landed heavily on the floor. Harry however, was merely bored.

"Is that all you've got Malfoy?" Harry asked, unconcerned by the advancing snake. When it got near enough he told it to quit advancing on him and advance on Malfoy. The snake obeyed him, everyone's eyes were wide. Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye that most students were horrified. Dumbledore was there, and he was watching. Harry raised his wand and silently performed a spell that he shouldn't have learned until seventh year. Malfoy went flying back, his wand lay forgotten on the floor. "I've disarmed you," Harry said evenly. "I win the duel." Harry bowed respectfully to his two professors. "Pardon me sirs, but I will be leaving now. I feel that I have far surpassed this level of dueling." With that Harry turned on his heel and left. He could feel Dumbledore's gaze boring into him and shivered. He now understood why Voldemort feared his old Professor.

After the incident at the Dueling club where not only did Harry sufficiently flatten Malfoy and use a spell far beyond his years but also spoke parseltongue, there was no doubt in any student's mind whether or not Harry was the Heir of Slytherin. The only person who perhaps still held faith in him was his little sister Rose. Rose still loved him, Harry knew, and despite how cold and black his heart had become, he still felt it warm and lighten when she came by to talk to him. She couldn't put a smile on his face anymore, but at least he could talk to her without sneering. Perhaps Rose's best friend Ginny also still thought of him as innocent. He noticed that the two girls were pretty much attached to the hip and held the same beliefs in almost every area. Harry felt slightly guilty that Rose and her friend still trusted him when the rest of the school was right, but then the new Harry quickly squashed the guilt. He had no reason to feel guilty for just being who he was, right?

Soon, another boy was attacked as was a ghost. Harry cursed the dumb basilisk—it hadn't managed to kill anything yet, as was its job. Frustrated though Harry was, he made no attempt to help the basilisk in its job. He sighed and sat down in the library, reading his book, "Deep and Dark: Complicated Black Magic for the Ambitious Dark Wizard". Of course, it had it's cover over it, but Harry had been lazy and just put it in front of the book rather than in the inside front and back cover. Suddenly, for some unexplained reason, that Granger girl sat at his table right across from him. It was well-known that Granger was the smartest witch in their year. Why she wasn't in Ravenclaw, Harry wasn't sure. Harry looked over his ill-disguised book and raised an eyebrow at her.

"What do you want, Granger?" he asked. Granger smiled.

"Just to talk to you. You must be pretty lonely, I mean what with everyone thinking you're the Heir of Slytherin, and all," Granger was saying. Harry glared at her.

"I like solitude, and I certainly don't need your pity," Harry sneered.

"Well, you don't have to be so hostile about it," Hermione huffed indignantly. Harry raised an eyebrow suspiciously. She was trying to find out something about him, not befriend him. She, too, thought he was the Heir. She was just looking for proof. 'Brave girl,' Harry thought, amused. 'Perhaps that's why she's in the lion house.'

"You won't find what you're looking for," Harry told her bluntly, going back to reading his book. Hermione frowned at him.

"What?" Harry read her mind with legilimency easily. Lately he'd become quite the master of the art.

"Ah, I see. I have no friends like Malfoy, so you couldn't use polyjuice to get close to me like you did to him," Harry said. "Clever girl you are, really, to be attempting so advanced a potion. Almost as clever as myself, I daresay. So, you've come around here under the pretense of befriending me to find out if I am the heir. I must say, that's quite sneaky and underhanded, to play someone like that. You would have done well in my house." Hermione was gaping at him. She whispered, astounded,

"You know legilimency?" Harry smirked.

"Dear Granger, you have no idea what you're up against," he said, and went back to reading. Apparently the crack about her not knowing something made her mad.

"What are you reading, anyway?" She snapped, grabbing the book. The disguise fell away and the book was revealed for what it really was. Her eyes widened, and harry snatched his book away from her.

"Filthy little mudblood!" he snarled angrily. "I hope that thing gets you next!" he hissed, and stormed off. Hermione, horrified, ran to the Headmaster's office.

"Come in," Albus Dumbledore called when he heard a frightened knock at the door. That type of knock could only mean that it was one of the few students who knew the location and password to the Headmaster's office come to confess to something, complain, or accuse someone. Dumbledore wasn't all that surprised to see Hermione Granger standing in the doorway. "Ah, Miss Granger. Come sit down. May I offer you a lemon drop?" Hermione shook her head and sat down. She looked at her feet nervously.

"P-professor," she started, but seemed unable to continue.

"Yes?" Dumbledore prompted gently. She looked up at him, and Dumbledore knew that it was a look of genuine fear.

"I…I think that I'm going to be attacked next," Hermione said. Dumbledore looked at her quizzically.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Well, I…Professor, Ron, Dean and I were all trying to figure out who did all of this, so we decided that I'd go talk to Harry Potter, sir, and I found him in the library. He was reading a book, and I was just talking to him when he read my mind! Then I got mad at something he said and I grabbed his book, and the cover fell off and, sir, he was reading a book about dark magic! Really dark magic! Then he called me a mudblood and said he hoped that the monster would get me next," Hermione said blurted out. She was in tears by now. Dumbledore stepped around his desk and patted her on the back, giving her a piece of chocolate.

"There, there, my child. Nothing will harm you under my watch," Dumbledore said softly, but the words appeared to have little effect. This news deeply disturbed Dumbledore. He'd had his suspicions of who was opening the Chamber, but he didn't want to admit it to himself. Little Harry Potter, son of Lily and James, an aspiring dark wizard? Surely not. Yet, here seemed to be hard core evidence that he was. He had acted far too late, and now, with the whole school dead set against him, even transferring him to Gryffindor would have little effect. Dumbledore sighed in frustration. He couldn't expel the boy, not with such an important prophecy riding on him, but he couldn't not expel him either. Someone could end up dead just like fifty years ago. He supposed it was time to have a little talk with Harry. He'd do it just after dinner, and he'd keep a close watch on Hermione.

'Tom! Tom, I've been discovered,' Harry scrawled quickly.

'You've been "discovered" for quite some time now,' Tom wrote back.

'No, I mean I was reading in the library--,' Harry began.

'I already don't like the sound of this,' Tom interrupted.

'—and that Granger girl came up to me. I read her mind, she was trying to get information out of me, trying to get proof that I was the Heir. Then she grabbed my book and she saw the title Tom! She knows I'm practicing dark magic! Then to make matters worse, I lost my temper and told her that I hoped that the basilisk got her next.'

'You said that the BASILISK should get her next? You gave her the name of the creature?' Tom wrote, furious.

'Well, no, I said "that thing".' Harry wrote quickly.

'Oh. Well, you're still in a spot of trouble.'

'I know, Tom! I know! What should I do?' Harry asked. There was a long pause. For a moment, Harry thought that Tom wouldn't reply, then,

'Go to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I know you dislike him, but Lucious Malfoy will meet you there. He will take you to me. Bring this diary with you. Go!' Tom wrote. Harry quickly shut the book, grabbed his wand and left the Slytherin dormitory.

Once he was out of Hogwarts, he made a mad dash across the grounds, casting a stealth charm on himself so that he wouldn't be seen. He made it to the Forbidden Forest and took off the stealth charm. Not long afterwards, a cloaked figure appeared.

"Harry Potter?" Lucious Malfoy questioned. "My, my, this is certainly a surprise. My Master said that I was to pick up a new member, but I never guessed that it would be you." Harry glared at him coldly.

"Let's go, Malfoy," he said. Lucious smiled.

"As you wish."

Dumbledore was greatly disturbed when his little Slytherin student didn't show up for dinner. He walked down to Fred and George Weasley, who he knew were in possession of a certain map.

"Evening, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley," he said amiably.

"Evening Professor," they said in unison. He could tell that they were trying to figure out what prank they had pulled lately. Dumbledore couldn't help but smile at that.

"I am aware that you are in possession of a certain map…I would like to have a look at it for a moment, if you please. You'll get it back," he said. Fred and George looked incredulous, but George fished out an old piece of parchment and handed it over.

"The password is--," Fred started, but Dumbledore interrupted him.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," Albus said with a twinkle in his eye. "I am well aware. You forget that you were not the first to possess this map, Mr. Weasley." With that, Dumbledore went back to his office to search for Harry James Potter.

'December 17, 1992

The Daily Prophet

Slytherin Student Harry Potter Gone Missing!

On December 16, young Harry Potter of Hogwarts went missing just before dinner. There has been no word on what has happened.

"We are doing all that we can to find him," Headmaster Albus Dumbledore stated at a Press Conference this morning. "In the mean time, we ask the public not to panic. Your students are safe here. We highly doubt that this was a kidnapping."

In fact, many professionals believe that Mr. Potter went A-wall…'

'April 16, 1993

The Daily Prophet

A-Wall Hogwarts Student Still Missing

Officials, who stated months ago that the missing Hogwarts student, Harry James Potter, did indeed run away from school. Reasons to his escape are as of yet unclear…'

'July 31, 1993

The Daily Prophet

Potter Case Closed

Officials on the case of Harry James Potter who some seven months ago disappeared from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have now stated that on this, what would have been his thirteenth birthday, his case has been closed. No further investigations will be made. Either Potter has successfully escaped or, they reason, he has died…'

'August 10, 1994

The Daily Prophet

YOU-KNOW-WHO BACK IN FULL FORCE —ATTACK AT WORLD CUP

There has been no official confirmation as of yet, but there was a death eater attack at the Quidditch World Cup mere hours ago. The Dark Mark was launched into the sky and the Death Eaters were storming around setting things on fire as they once would have when You-Know-Who was strong, witnesses say. Some have even gone so far as to say that they saw You-Know-Who himself. After his lying low for these past few years, officials had thought that perhaps, if we were lucky, he were dead.

In a strange turn of events, multiple witnesses say that they saw Harry Potter, an a-wall Hogwarts student from two years before, unmasked and traveling with the death eaters. He bore a shining pin on his robe that resembled a live snake. They say that he was not causing any harm, but rather seemed to be directing the death eaters…'

'June 10, 1996

The Daily Prophet

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and The Snake Strike Again!

For as of yet unexplained reasons, You-Know-Who and The Snake strike again by attacking the Ministry. No one is quite sure why, but it is most people's guess that it was an attempt to kill the minister…'

'June 16, 1997

The Daily Prophet

Hogwarts is Attacked; Dumbledore Dead

Yesterday we are sorry to say that The Snake and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named struck again, this time at Hogwarts. Luckily, there are no reports of serious injuries or death to the students, but Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was found dead outside the Astronomy Tower…'

'August 12, 1997

The Daily Prophet

Hogwarts Students Don't Feel Safe

This year, for the first time in centuries, only one hundred total students are returning to Hogwarts. Many students simply don't feel safe there anymore, and their parents certainly don't feel comfortable sending them back. Among those not returning are even age-old wizarding lines such as the Weasley family…'

Rose Lily Potter put down the Prophet angrily. Ever since her brother had supposedly betrayed them all, it seemed to be all the Prophet could talk about. She'd never believe it of course. He had to be under the Imperius curse, or something of the sort. Rose sighed. Yet, the evidence seemed fairly hard-core. If he'd been under the Imperius, wouldn't he likely be doing the terrible deeds rather than ordering the others around? She supposed she'd never know.

Rose sat on her bed and picked up a book. "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six". Since they were no longer going to Hogwarts, Mrs. Weasley had started a sort of home-study course. Mr. Weasley would teach Ron and Hermione the course that their seventh year would require while Mrs. Weasley would teach Rose and Ginny what their sixth year needed.

She flipped over to lay on her back. Maybe one day Harry would come back to them. Maybe one day he'd stop being evil, or fight the imperius or something. Maybe…Rose's thoughts were interrupted when suddenly she was grabbed from behind. A sock or something round and cloth-like was thrust into her mouth and a gag was tied around her. There was a sickening feeling, then Rose remembered nothing more.

"You have done spectacularly, my Snake," Voldemort hissed. Harry nodded in acknowledgment.

"I know I have. I thank you for your praise," he responded. Voldemort grinned sinisterly.

"Ah, your bowing to no one characteristic is quite enjoyable. You aren't nearly like any other regular Death Eater," he said. Voldemort got up and beckoned Harry to follow him. "You told me that you would not be marked by the dark mark come your seventeenth birthday because you were no normal death eater. You would bow to no one, not even me. You wished to be seen as my equal. I agree with you on some levels, my young heir. Yet, on others I do not. For you see, while my death eaters have killed and killed several times, tortured to earn their ranks, your hands remain bloodless. Sure, you're a brilliant mastermind when it comes to planning attacks. You are nearly invaluable to me. Yet, I cannot overlook the fact that you have not killed. If I were to publicly announce you as my heir, it would be ridiculous for you to have never tortured, never killed. You must strike fear into hearts more than your name already does," Voldemort said. Harry inclined his head in acknowledgment at this. He realized that he could not have Voldemort's followers do all of his dirty work. One day more blood would be spilt by his hands.

"Ah, you're thinking about the servant of mine that you killed. No, I did not use legilimens, young one. You know that I cannot match you any longer. It's obvious. It's written on your face. Yes, I'm well aware that you have killed before and wouldn't necessarily mind killing again, but it's the actual action while you are in service to me—pardon, partnering with me—that you must carry out. For this purpose I have gotten a very special person for you to perform these acts on, and a very special witness as well. This will seal that you are obviously completely loyal to me as well as your own darkness," Voldemort said, an evil grin slowly coming across his face. Harry raised an eyebrow in mild interest.

"Oh? Who have you for me?" He asked. Voldemort walked to the prisoner hall where a few Death Eaters were around a prison cell. Inside the prison cell were two little redheads, probably around the age of sixteen. They were both unconscious. Harry almost didn't recognize them, but slowly the color drained from his face. There was his little sister, Rose Potter, who he hadn't seen in almost five years. Her every feature was so clear, so sharp that it brought pain to his heart; the heart that he could have sworn didn't exist anymore. He looked over at the other redhead, and his heart gave another lurch. It was little Ginny Weasley, Rose's best friend. Here was the last remaining bit of his family. Here it was, and now he was going to be asked to destroy it.

"Ennervate," Voldemort said, and the two girls began to stir. Rose's eyes widened as she saw the Death Eaters, and her eyes showed visible relief when she saw her brother. Harry's heart was given another stab. She still trusted him. She still counted on him, despite his label as The Snake, despite that he was a 'follower' of Voldemort.

"Harry?" she rasped. A death eater nearby kicked her in the side, and she gasped in pain.

"You will address him with proper respect. You're talking to The Snake," the death eater said.

"Silence," Voldemort said quietly. "Let her speak what she wishes." He smirked at her. "Call it a last wish, if you will." By this time ginny was fully awake and she stood up, outraged.

"What's going on? Why have you taken us here?" she demanded. Voldemort laughed his icy laugh.

"Oh, you'll be fine, or as fine as torture permits. You are to be a witness for us. My Snake here needs a little more publicity in the kill and torture department," Voldemort turned to Harry. "You may have your way with that one after you've killed your sister." Harry felt the bile rising in his throat. The darkness that had controlled his life for so long was quickly slipping away, leaving his mind raw and helpless, defenseless and unprepared for the guilt and self-disgust. He could never just "have his way" with Ginny! That was disgusting, monster-like, terrible. Harry felt weak in the knees. He could never do something like that to his friend. Ginny's eyes were widening like a frightened rabbit. She realized she had no wand and could not fight them. It was dawning on her that she was to watch her best friend be tortured and killed by her own brother, and then was to suffer her own fate.

Harry saw her fear and suddenly an unexpected side of him was strengthened. He could defy them. Voldemort would be hard to distract, but he could take the death eaters out quickly. He'd just have to pretend, have to act. He realized that it was natural to him. Harry nodded at Voldemort's request.

"I'm certain I'll enjoy the event," Harry said sinisterly. Ginny and Rose were gripping one another's hands tightly. If one was to die, the other was willing to risk their own life to save the other's. "Oh, but, My Lord, I have one thing to say before I do this."

"Oh, Snake? And what would that be?" Voldemort asked, amused by his request. Harry gave him a twisted smile and raised his wand.

"Stupefy," Harry said. Surprised, the Dark Lord had no time to react or mutter a counter-curse. In less than a minute Harry had the three other death eaters down. He wrenched open the bars and grabbed the shocked girls. He muttered something, and they were gone in an instant.

They reappeared somewhere on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. He let go of his sister and the Weasley girl. The three were silent for a moment. Rose had tears in her eyes. Suddenly, she'd seized Harry in a hug.

"Oh, Harry, oh Harry, I knew you weren't like what all the newspapers said!" she cried Harry, stunned, did not hug her back. He didn't really remember how to, anyway, or what the purpose of a hug was for. It seemed to be a frivolous activity with no point, and therefore Harry refrained from taking part in it.

"One good deed," Harry said slowly, steadily, "is no compensation for a life of sin." Rose blinked up at him and backed away a little.

"So you really…you really did do all of those awful things?" Rose asked, her eyes shining with disgust, fury, sadness and fear.

"I did nothing. I planned everything. My name is the Snake for a reason," Harry said. "Get back to your home," he said. "If my memory serves my correctly, it's not far from here. You should make it on your own just fine." He turned away, Rose and Ginny staring after him.

"Wait!" Ginny shouted. Harry turned. "What will happen to you? You can't go back. They won't accept you after that display." Her words hit Harry with an icy coldness. She was right. He couldn't go back to Voldemort, nor could he return to the Light side. He was wanted for being a traitor to both sides, wanted to a point where it did not matter if he was brought in dead or alive. Harry gave her a twisted smile.

"I suppose I'll go on to what Dumbledore used to call the next greatest adventure," Harry said, Ginny frowned at him, trying to make sense of what he just said.

"Death?" Rose exclaimed, astonished. "You'll die?"

"Quick decisions hold hefty prices," Harry answered her. "Someone's always got to die, I suppose." Ginny held her head high.

"Not always. Come back with us to the Burrow. Mum and Dad will freak out, but they'll get over it. You can talk to Professor McGonagall. She can protect you!" Ginny said, determined. Harry considered this for a moment. He supposed that if he was going to die anyway, it really didn't matter by which hands he was killed. If the Order were to kill him, perhaps it would even be less painful than if Voldemort got a hold of him. Harry nodded.

"All right. I'll go with you," Harry said. Ginny smiled triumphantly while Rose just looked utterly relieved. Harry was surprised at Ginny's strength in such a terrifying situation. Where even his own sister fell to pieces, Ginny was a rock. He considered her for a moment. She was very beautiful, with her fiery hair and personality to match. She had curves, unlike the last time he had met her. Yes, Harry decided, she was very beautiful indeed.

They didn't walk long before they came upon the towering house that Harry remembered fairly well. Harry closed his eyes as the details all came back to him. His heart warmed again as he recalled coming down this very path after a good swim in the pond. Mrs. Weasley's voice would call them all inside for supper, and she always had a delicious pie cooling on the window sill. The chickens were squawking, the other Weasley boys were coming back from a day of playing Quidditch up in the Orchard. 'Ah, God,' Harry mourned. 'Why ever did I condemn this place?'

His memories merged with this image, but this day was much different than the last time he was there. There was a sense of panic going around that Harry could pick up on. He heard worried voices shouting.

"Ginny? Rose, where are you?" he could hear Mr. Weasley shouting. He could hear Mrs. Weasley sobbing from inside.

"They've been taken, they've been taken. Can't you see? The clock hs been stuck on Mortal Peril for the past four hours…" Mrs. Weasley was crying.

"Um, Mrs. Weasley," Harry recognized the voice of Hermione. "It's not on Mortal Peril anymore. It says 'Home'." The sobbing stopped abruptly, and Rose and Ginny ran to the door, smiling widely. They would get to cheer up Mrs. Weasley. Harry felt himself using muscles that he hadn't used in years—he was smiling too.

"Oh, my babies!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked as she flung open the door and crushed them in a hug. All of the Weasleys were running towards the two of them while Harry stood a safe distance away, where they wouldn't notice him. He saw Mrs. Wealsey, Mr. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Bill and Charlie, but where were Fred and George? Just as Harry finished his thought, he felt two wands pressing against the sides of his neck. Harry sighed in irritation.

"What did you do to our sisters?" Fred hissed with malice. Harry vaguely realized that his hood was up—they had no idea who he was.

"I brought them back from a Death Eater's prison cell. Pardon me for rescuing them. Should I have just left them there for Rose to be killed and you sister to be raped? If you want me to, I really have no problems bringing them back," Harry said coolly. The Weasley twins paled. Harry's little 'threat' was empty, of course. He would never dream of taking them back there, but the Weasley twins didn't know that. They took away their wands.

"Why did you bring them back?" Fred asked warily. Harry drew back his hood, and they gasped.

"Because I wouldn't dream of harming either of them like that," he said. Fred and George stood there, gaping. He could feel some of the Weasley clan from further down start looking at him. Their eyes widened as they realized who it was.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron shouted, aimed at Harry. Harry was faster though and silently, wandlessly, did the counter curse. He raised an eyebrow at Ron.

"What was that for?" Harry inquired. Ron just gasped, half in awe and fear of his power, and half in bewilderment that Harry didn't understand why he had just thrown that curse.

"He saved us," Rose said quietly. "He was ordered to kill us, but he saved us instead." Ginny nodded to confirm her story. Mr. Weasley looked astonished, and Mrs. Weasley looked frightened. Mr. Weasley, his wand still at the ready, had courage enough to ask,

"Is this true?" Harry nodded.

"Sure is, but why trust my word? I was, after all, a servant of darkness. I was The Snake. You have no reason to trust me, just as I've never felt I've had a reason to trust you," he said steadily. The Weasleys all looked at him for a moment, Ron especially. Mr. Weasley turned to Rose.

"What do you want us to do with him?" Mr. Weasley asked.

" I want you to get McGonagall to help him. Please, Mr. Weasley. If you don't, he'll be killed," Rose pleaded. Mr. Weasley turned to Ginny.

"What do you think?" he asked. Ginny nodded.

"I agree with Rose. A life for a life, right Dad?" she said. Mr. Weasley frowned, but nodded.

"All right. Stay out here if you would Harry, until McGonagall gets here. She'll…make sure you're safe," Mr. Weasley said as the Weasley family looked at him warily and went inside. Harry smiled in remorsefully.

"For me, or for you?" Harry asked quietly before sitting down on the grass to await McGonagall.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five 

Professor Minerva McGonagall was not easy to surprise. In fact, the only two recent times in which she had been surprised were when Harry James Potter joined the dark, and the second time, which was when Harry Potter decided to join the light again. She stared hard at him. It was hard to think of the teenager that sat harmlessly on the grass, picking at a daisy, as a cold hearted mastermind.

"So, why have you decided to rejoin our side?" McGonagall demanded. The young boy gave her an inquisitive look, a condescending one at that. He was looking at her as if she had just asked him the most stupid, boring question in the world.

"Well. It's die or die if I don't," he said simply. "I can't return to darkness. They will destroy me, slowly and painfully. If I don't join the light, you too will kill me. The Ministry is after me as well. This is the only path that does not lead to my demise. Besides," Harry said, turning his head to watch the Weasley family rejoice in the return of their two daughters, "I'm…not really sure why I left in the first place." His eyes held an emotion that McGonagall could not accurately describe. There was pain, confusion, and regret, certainly regret. The professor sighed. He could be lying. He could be trying to trick them all, and yet…he seemed so…sincere. She supposed that sincerity could be faked—Severus Snape had certainly accomplished that—but for some reason, she didn't get the same odd feeling around this young man as she had around Severus. She folded her arms.

"You will not be allowed to rejoin the light," McGonagall said. "Or, rather, you won't be allowed to join our association. We will however hide you from those that wish harm on you. You can stay here, and we will redouble the wards."

"No," Harry said. McGonagall guffawed at him.

"Pardon me?" Harry turned to look at her, looking her straight in the eye.

"No. You won't redouble them. I will. I have more knowledge of the dark than you. I know more about what they can, cannot, will and will not do. You may check them when I finish," Harry said. He stood. "There are new dark spells out there that you haven't ever heard of. No one has, because I developed them myself. In fact, I could be very valuable to your…association as you so wish to call it. However. I realize that trust takes time. When you're ready to accept me, I'll be ready to accept you." McGonagall blinked. It wasn't often that she was told what to do. Hesitantly, Mcgonagall nodded.

"Fine then. When you've finished with the wards, make sure to contact me," she said, and with that she turned on her heel and left. Harry smirked once she was gone. This was all too easy. He could protect Rose by strengthening the wards on this one house, gain trust in the Order and then go back to Voldemort with information to avoid punishment. 'Sincerity can be faked is right, McGonagall, and you've just fallen into my trap.' With that thought, Harry headed inside the Burrow.

The creaky old house was exactly as Harry remembered it. It was warm, cozy and happy. All in all, Harry thought, it was absolutely disgusting. Rose came up to him immediately, smiling. Harry's heart gave a sharp pang for a moment, but he quickly stomped it out. The Snake felt no emotion! He was insulting himself by merely having that emotion. The Snake was cruel, The Snake was a mastermind, The Snake was anything but emotional.

"Welcome home, big brother," she said. The other Weasleys stopped what they were doing and looked at their new houseguest. The older Weasley boys looked murderous, Harry observed with slight amusement. The youngest Weasley boy simply looked perplexed—a simpleton in all areas, especially thought and emotion, Harry thought. Mr. Weasley looked at Harry with a mixture of fear, hatred and gratitude, an odd combination. Mrs. Weasley looked at him with the warmth of any mother, which threw Harry completely off track. Why didn't she have similar expressions to her sons and husband? Harry frowned mentally. She'd take some time to place in a small, categorized box in his mind. Ginny was looking at him…with suspicion? Harry almost grinned. Now that for sure was interesting. He had just saved her life, or at least spared her a horrible violation, and yet she still didn't trust him? She was just as interesting as her mother, perhaps even more so. Harry had to admit, he was intrigued.

"Thanks," Harry said warmly to his little sister. Even if Tom would never understand his affections for his little sister, even if he would almost certainly punish him if he knew, Harry still had them. It was the only human thing left about him.

"Where is he? I don't believe this!" an outraged voice yelled from another room. Mr. Weasley ran to see who exactly had come through his floo. Harry froze instantly. He knew exactly who had just flooed in.

"Sirius, Sirius you need to calm down!" said a firm voice belonging to Remus Lupin. Rose grabbed onto Harry's arm. She'd stick up for him, even against Uncle Sirius! Harry just looked blank. He'd never really given his loving 'uncles' much of a thought after his parents died. It was as if Harry's soul had just dropped off the planet, retained only in the slightest piece by Rose. Now Harry felt an emptiness being filled with full force again despite his attempts to stop it. His stomach did flip-flops, his mind raced in turmoil. What had he done? What had he done! Harry held a hand to his mouth. He was going to be sick. Harry ran to the bathroom without another word, only slightly remembering where it was. When he was finished, he sat against the wall, shaking uncontrollably.

Ginny had seen, along with everyone else, Harry run out and head straight for the bathroom. Curious, she had followed. She found Harry shaking uncontrollably, his eyes wide. She ran water onto a washcloth and gently washed around his mouth—she could tell he'd been sick. Harry seemed too distraught to do much other than just let her help him. Ginny cocked her head. Rose's older brother really puzzled her. One minute he was her Knight in Shining Armor, the next he was cold and distant, and then he was a frightened and sick little boy. He looked very lost and confused.

"It'll be ok," Ginny said to him soothingly as she heard Sirius bellowing louder from the living room. She winced at his words.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S STAYING HERE? WE OUGHT TO WRING THE LITTLE WEASEL'S NECK!" Sirius hollered. Ginny saw Harry shuddering violently now, and, acting on instinct, she pulled him into a warm embrace.

"It's ok—he doesn't really mean it," Ginny said. She looked over his shoulder at the wall in despair. She knew that Sirius meant every word of it. Harry had done a lot of damage to everything. He'd caused so many people so much misery…and yet, Ginny found that hard to believe. Was the mastermind really this shaking boy she held in her arms?

"What have I done? What have I done?" Harry said in a rasping whisper, clutching to Ginny more tightly, burying his head deeper into her shoulder. Ginny was surprised but thought better of moving.

"It'll be ok," Ginny repeated. Her instincts were taking over as she whispered soothing words to him and stroked his hair gently. He picked up his head, blinking.

"I—I'm sorry," he said, shaking his hair. He couldn't believe he'd just had a total melt down, and right in front of—well really on—this girl! He found himself blushing furiously. 'I'm a fool!' he thought. Ginny found herself blushing as well.

"Uh, no problem," she said. Why was she all silly now? Ginny scolded herself lightly. She'd just been trying to help him, nothing else! The shouting outside had stopped. "We should um, probably go back to the living room, Harry." Harry nodded and they went back to the living room to find a beet red Sirius being almost restrained by a frustrated Remus, and an upset Weasley family standing all around. Mad-eye Moody and McGonagall had even shown up! Harry felt weak in the knees. What was he doing? What had he done? His mind was racing uncontrollably to the point of where he couldn't think straight. His eyes wandered forlornly to Remus and Sirius. 'He hates me, he hates me, he wishes I were dead…' Harry thought frantically. 'They all hate me, and I have no one to blame but myself. I should die, die like they want me too…I've brought shame to my name, shame to my family, shame to my sister, shame to the Weasleys, to the Order. I should die, I should die.' Harry's thoughts were jumbling randomly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered before he collapsed.

Harry woke to see red. Long red hair was all that he could see. He shifted backward. He found that he was in a bed with warm sheets and a pillow. Little Ginny Weasley was sitting by his bedside.

"You're finally awake," she said, getting up to open the windows.

"What…happened?" Harry asked, confused.

"You collapsed. Madame Pomfrey stopped by and said it was from an overload of mental distress. She thinks Sirius was the cause," Ginny paused. "I…think he might be a little bit sorry." Harry couldn't process this information, so he simply nodded. The pretty girl with the red hair just kept talking, so Harry just kept listening to her voice. He smiled. It was a very pretty voice to go right along with the pretty girl.

Ginny frowned.

"Harry, are you listening to me?" Ginny asked when she noticed Harry looked a little loopy. 'He must be delirious,' Ginny thought, and, worried, she grabbed a thermometer and bent down to Harry's face to put the thermometer in his mouth. His fever must be going up.

Harry watched as the pretty girl got closer to him. He wondered what would happen if he kissed her? It might be nice. Decisively, Harry put his lips on hers.

Ginny pulled away quickly, the delirious Harry just falling back onto the bed. Her face was completely red. 'Oh my god! Definitely delirious!' she ran out of the room.

"Mom!" she called. "Harry's fever went up!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six 

Harry woke with a pounding headache. He looked around him—complete and utter darkness. That was just how he liked it. He felt for his glasses and put them on. Of course, his vision wasn't much better as it was still dark. His eyes adjusted fairly quickly—after living in dungeons for years they didn't really have a choice—and he could make out faint outlines of furniture. It seemed that he was on a couch somewhere—but _where,_ exactly? Harry wished that his head would stop pounding. He pressed his cool hand to his forehead to dull the pain, and once his head cleared he remembered—he was at the Weasley's. Slowly, painfully, Harry rose from the couch and haded toward the cabinet. He was surprised that he still remembered where all the things were kept. He grabbed a headache potion and downed a bit of it. Instantly he felt his head stop throbbing and he sighed in grateful relief.

"Feel better?" said a voice. Harry swiveled around, startled, and then relaxed when he saw it was only little Ginny standing there.

"Yeah, thanks," Harry said, putting the potion bottle back in the cabinet. "What are you doing up? It has to be at least midnight.

"Checking on you—making sure, you know, you aren't dead or anything," Ginny said. Although she said it carelessly, Harry was puzzled to find slight concern beneath the surface.

"Oh, right. Thanks. I'm fine now. What, what happened?" Harry asked. All he could remember was the Sirius had shown up and then he'd blacked out. Harry winced at the memory, and Ginny looked uncomfortable.

"Well," she started, "You went unconcious and got a really high fever. We brought your fever down and decided to let you sleep. I guess you don't remember anything." Harry detected both relief and slight disappointment flitter across her face for one brief moment—he wondered what he could have done when he was so dizzy with sick that he didn't remember anything at all. He was amazed that emotional distress could send the body into such physical turmoil.

"No, I don't remember anything," Harry answered. Ginny nodded and headed back upstairs. Harry was about to let her go when suddenly, hesitantly, he asked, "Um, Gin?" he realized he was using her nickname, a right he had let die along with his parents, but he didn't care. She seemed surprised, but said nothing, merely turned around. "Where's…where're Sirius and Remus?" Her face fell.

"Oh…Harry, I don't think you're ready to see them--," she started, but Harry cut her off.

"I think I'll be the judge of when I'm ready and when I'm not. You don't even know me—where are they?" Harry snapped. Gin looked at him with ice cold eyes. Of course he hadn't changed. How could she think he might be different than before, might have a better heart?

"They're up at the flat they share in London. Don't go barging in at midnight. I'm sure they'll come by tomorrow. Good night." With that, she turned on her heel and went to her room upstairs. Harry went back to his couch. He knew he had made her mad, and, for some odd reason, he kind of felt bad about it. He frowned, irritated. Where had this sudden conscience come from—moreover, where had this consciousness come from? He had felt, since his parents had left, like he was in a kind of a coma—sure, his body was performing operations, but he never really felt like he was doing them. He was too numb. He wasn't sure he liked this new way of actually feeling and being and doing. He lay back down on the couch and closed his eyes. He knew Ginny was right—Sirius and Remus would come by the next day. His past had finally caught up with him.

Harry thought of everything. His parents, Rose, Sirius and Remus, the Weasleys, the Order. His stomach flipped over. He had betrayed them all. He hadn't given them a second thought, blinded by his lack of emotion. He had betrayed all he loved. He ran to the bathroom and threw up the meager contents of his belly. He sunk to his knees as his legs shook. He put his head in his hands, curled up into a little ball and cried for the first time in years. Finally, he understood what had happened, what he had done and who he had become. He was The Snake, but he didn't want to be. Not anymore. He wanted desperately to go back in time and be Harry Potter again. To make better decisions after his parents had died. To have a stronger heart. He couldn't believe himself, and was now absolutely beside himself with grief—not only for his parents, for whom he had never properly grieved, but for the friends and family he had lost with his betrayal. For the life that he could have lived, he cried.

What felt like hours later, he peeled himself from the bathroom floor and laid on the couch, never to know that Ginny had been standing on the stairs the entire time and then snuck up to bed when his breathing finally evened out.

"Sirius, _why_ did you explode that way?" Remus asked Sirius when they returned to their flat after coming home from the Weasley's. Sirius was still mad, but he had calmed down considerably. Being mad at that jet-black hair and those green eyes had been easy all those years, but once he saw them filed with pain, the matter had suddenly become a little different.

"Well, I just can't believe they'd invite him in so fast! God, Remus, he as good as killed Dumbledore!" Sirius said, exasperated, though he wsn't really sure how he felt about him anymore. When he had seen Harry, he hadn't seen The Snake, the man he had hated for years, but rather the little boy he had once known and loved like a son. It made Sirius wonder what had really gone wrong—if anything had gone wrong. Had he been under Imperius? He couldn't be sure.

"I know, I know, but Sirius, they were going to kill him if something wasn't done. He's wanted by Voldemort, the Ministry and the Order. Making quick amends was the only way he could survive. I think what Minerva did was merciful. He would have died, Sirius. Did you know that? No. You cut out of the meeting too quickly to have known," Remus said, mad. Blood drained from Sirius' face.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Harry _saved_ Rose and Ginny when they were imprisoned in Voldemort's lair this morning. He stunned his own master and took off with them. When he got there he told the girls to leave him there for dead, but they wouldn't have that—you know them. They couldn't just leave him there to be slaughtered. They took him back to the house and Minerva had little choice. Would _you_ have let him be killed after he saved those two?" Remus demanded. Sirius slowly shook his head. Snake or not, it was still Harry, and he couldn't imagine just leaving his Godson on his doorstep to die after doing a good deed. "You made him physically _ill_, Sirius. Obviously, he's trying to repent."

"He'll have to do a damn lot of repenting," Sirius snapped. Harry or not, he was the Snake. He had murdered hundreds with his plans of mass destruction.

"I know. I know. But he's obviously a genius, Sirius. We _need_ him on our side. If he stays on Voldemort's side, Sirius, I hate to say it, but then we're fighting a losing battle. He could be our key against Voldemort," Remus said rationally. Sirius shook his head in frustration. He understood what Remus was saying, but he didn't particularly want to believe him. "We'll go back tomorrow—hopefully he'll be ready to see us."

"Ready or not, here I come," Sirius growled. Remus shook his head and Sirius heard his footfalls retreat to his own bedroom. Sirius felt a sharp pang through his heart. He didn't know what to do—what Lily and James would have done. Grudgingly, he knew the answer. They would, slowly but surely, forgive their son. They'd still love him. Sirius was loathe to admit that he had to do the same.

Harry woke up the next morning to the sounds of Mrs. Weasley frying bacon in a pan. Slowly, groggily, he got up. Mrs. Weasley spotted him and smiled.

"Oh, good morning, dearie," she said cheerfully. "Feeling better?" Harry nodded.

"Do you need any help?" Harry asked. Mrs. Weasley's smile only got brighter.

"If you wouldn't mind setting the table, that would be wonderful," she replied. Harry went to the cabinets and got out plates, cups and other breakfast utensils for all six Weasleys and two Potters that were present. When he finished the Weasleys all started to filter down the stairs. The boys gave him glares, to which he just looked the other way—he could sense their surprise. The Snake would have given them glare for glare, but this, this wasn't the Snake. This was Harry.

Harry sat down and ate quietly while the Weasleys spoke with subdued animation—it was obvious that, because of Harry's prescence they were reluctant to let their true feelings show through. With a pit in his stomach, Harry realized he couldn't blame them. Ginny cleared her throat.

"So, you guys, I was thinking about going up to play Quidditch later. What do you say?" she asked cheerfully. Befuddled, the boys gave their nods of agreement and murmurs of "we'll beat the heck out of you, but sure, why not". "Mom, do we have a broom Harry could borrow?" she asked. Her brother's stared at her as her Mom looked thoughtful.

"Actually, I think we have Harry's old broom up with the rest of his old things in the attic. If you want to go run and grab it, then Harry could play if he wanted to," Mrs. Weasley replied genially. Ginny turned to Harry.

"What do you think, Harry?" Ginny asked. Harry looked down at his plate of food. Quidditch? God, he hadn't played Quidditch in so long…he could barely remember when his Father used to take him out to teach him how to play. He could barely recall those times when he and James would play against Sirius and Remus.

"Yeah," he said quietly, almost inaudibly. "Yeah, I'd really like that."

About a half an hour later, after they had fought with the banshee for Harry's broom, the whole of the Weasley children that were home and Harry and Rose were out in the woods on the Weasley's makeshift Quidditch pitch.

"All right you lot," George said. "My team is me, Fred and Ron, and your team is Ginny, Rose, and the Snake. Ron's Keeper for our team, I'm beater and seeker, and Fred's the chaser."

"And I'll be the chaser, Rose can be keeper, and _Harry_," Ginny said, putting emphasis on his name for George to hear, "will be the beater and the seeker."

"Whatever," George mumbled. "All right," he said aloud. "On your marks…get set…go!"

With that directive, they all kicked off form the ground. Harry rose with ease—he had always been a natural on the broom—and he marveled at the feeling. Working for Voldemort hadn't allowed time for flying on brooms. He was shocked at how much he missed it, how much he yearned for this feeling of unadulterated freedom. Wind whipping across his face, he raced across the field, completely unaware that a smile was plastered onto him.

"Harry!" Ginny called out, "Watch out!" Suddenly pulled out of his reverie, Harry opened his eyes to see a bludger headed right toward him. Instinctively he raised the club and whacked the ball out of his vicinity. His eyes narrowed at George, who had sent it right for him. Instantly he felt his alter ego seeping through him, and no matter how hard he tried to resist, he felt his body reacting to the constant exercises he'd been put through for the past few years. Threat, his body sang out. Destroy the threat. He set off after the bludger and hit it back to George. Surprised, George threw it back at him, and Harry sent it spiraling down his way again as they began a screwed up game of tennis. The other Weasley's were hollering for them to stop. When the bludger glanced off George's shoulder and nearly threw him off his broom, he threw his hands up in defeat, his eyes wide as he looked right into Harry's wild expression. They landed.

"Don't you ever," Harry shouted at him, "_ever_ threaten me like that again!"

"Dude, it's a _game_," George said, bewildered. "I'm _supposed_ to throw the bludger at you." Harry paled. He hadn't realized. He'd forgotten. He'd allowed himself to be taken over by the threat of it.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. He couldn't be sure now what the Weasley's were more shocked at—his sudden attack on George or his apology. He could bet that they were more surprised at the apology. "I…I guess I've forgotten…how to play." With that Harry dropped his broom and ran.

"Harry, wait!" Ginny called, and started after him, but her brothers caught her arms.

"Don't, Gin. We know what he's capable of—we don't want to see you hurt," Ron said tentatively. Ginny wrenched herself away from them.

"You might know what he's capable of, but I know what he's _not_ capable of, and I know that includes hurting me!" Ginny said and then stormed off angrily. Rose shook her head.

"I'm sorry. I never thought—never could have _guessed_," she began, a bit choked up. Fred hugged her in a comforting manner.

"It's ok; we don't blame you Rose. If it had been George, I wouldn't have believed it either. Wouldn't want to have believed it," he said. George nodded in agreement, and Ron reluctantly conceded as well. "However," Fred said. "We _do_ have to do something about him. We can't keep him here, Rose. He could kill us all in our sleep." Rose, nodded, tears streaming down her face as she finally realized what a real danger her big brother was. "So. Here's the plan…"

Ginny rushed down the forest's edge, furious, when she caught sight of Harry. She stopped, contemplating going the other direction, when she saw the expression on his face. He looked far older than he really was—he looked maybe forty or fifty in that moment. He looked like a man who had seen many horrors and regretted each and every sighting. He lay on his back, looking up at the sky, and sighed. Ginny crossed the grass that lied between them, and sat down next to him.

"What are you thinking?" Ginny asked, looking straight ahead.

"That I wish things could have turned out differently. Not just back there. But just…life in general. How it turned out," he said. Ginny looked at him, a bit surprised.

"But you…" she started, but Harry interrupted her.

"I never meant to become a monster. I never meant to side with that bastard. I was caught in a few very weak moments that collapsed my entire life," Harry plucked a daisy from the ground and twirled it around, examining it. "It's like the Roman Empire. There were just a few weak spots here and there, and when invasion struck, well, that was their Achilles' heel. They succumbed to darkness, as did I."

"But you did save Rose and me," Ginny generously pointed out, confused by his mood. Here was the Snake, evil by all accounts, a murderer. Yet, there was just something about him that made it so he could not at all be completely evil. He chuckled darkly.

"Yes, I did, didn't I? But one good deed doesn't make up for a lifetime of sin," he said, and after that the two sat in silence, contemplating the truth to those words. He lay down, looking up at the sky. "Thank you for listening." Ginny lay down as well.

"You're welcome. Harry, you don't have to keep everything bottled up inside all the time. I think that's what hurt you in the first place. You had plenty of people who loved you, who cared about you. They could have helped you," Ginny said. Harry sighed.

"I know. I just didn't see it. My own self-absorption was my demise," he said. He turned his head to look at Ginny. "I didn't see that I had a wonderful sister who loved me dearly. I didn't see that I had a Godfather and an 'Uncle' ready to pull me into their arms and tell me it was going to be ok. I didn't see that I had great friends here, willing to help pull me out of the mess I'd made." He took Ginny's hand and she looked at him, not really shocked, more contemplative, a little questioning. "Thank you for helping me see that—even if it is too late."

"It's never too late for redemption, Harry," Ginny said.

"Would you say the same thing to Voldemort, Hitler, or Stalin?" Harry asked. Ginny looked away. "That's what I thought. I'm just as bad, Ginny. No matter what I feel now. I cannot undo what I have done. I cannot reinvent myself."

"I wish you could," Ginny said quietly. Harry turned her face towards his.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because. I could have loved you very much," she said factually. Harry kissed her.

"And you don't now?" he remarked.

"Maybe," she whispered.

Harry played with one of Ginny's curls gently. He looked into her gray eyes. Guarded, and yet within them there was a fiery passion. Was it lust? Was it love? Harry couldn't be sure.

"You deserve more than this. More than me." Harry stated finally, not taking his eyes off of hers.

"Is it really your right for you to decide what is best for me and what is not?" Ginny demanded. Harry grabbed her about the waist.

"It damn well is—I love you Ginny," he said fiercly. Ginny didn't even so much as flinch.

"That's good to know, I suppose," she said almost sarcastically. Harry enveloped her mouth with his own.

"Do you trust me?" he asked. Ginny shook her head.

"No," she said.

"Good," Harry said, and wrapped her in a passionate kiss once more.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven 

A/N: By the way, this story is pre-HBP. No nasty horcruxes to deal with. What was the diary then, you may ask? Simply what we were all led to believe at first—a cursed diary left behind by Tom Riddle. Also, please, if you read the chapter, review, even if only to say "good" or "bad". Reviews keep me going, and I often feel that I have no reason to finish it if no one's reading it anymore. This chapter contains some mild language (it is not prominent at all, but it is there, so I wanted to make note of that) and an implied sexual situation.

_"Come to bed, don't let me sleep alone. Couldn't hide the emptiness you let it show—never wanted it to be so cold, just didn't drink enough to say you love me. I can't hold on to me, wonder what's wrong with me?"_

_--"Lithium" by Evanescence_

-Six Years Earlier-

Lucius Malfoy walked briskly to his Master. Born on July thirty-first…who would've thought. Could he possibly be the one who had been meant? Lucius thought about what he knew about the Potters. He wondered if they had defied the Dark Lord three times before when the Prophecy was made. He was almost certain that they had. He didn't want his Master to leave anything to chance on his quest for power. He had to go unchallenged.

Lucius reached the small chamber in which his master often saw his servants and opened the doors. The Dark Lord turned his piercing stare from one of his Death Eaters (who was writhing on the ground in pain) to Lucius.

"Luciusss," he said. "Why have you come barging into my chamber?" Lucius knelt.

"It is of utmost importance. It involves the Prophecy, my Lord," he said, never quavering. Voldemort looked at the two servants who were in the room with them.

"Leave," he snapped, and once they had he strode quickly to Lucius. "Speak, for your life may depend on it."

"I was in Quality Quidditch Supplies today with my son when I ran across a young boy—Harry Potter. My son told me that today was his birthday, and Potter confirmed it. My Lord, the Potters defied you three times by the date of the Prophecy. It is possible that Harry was the one meant when it spoke of your demise," Lucius said, hurried. Voldemort gazed at him for a while, using legilimency, no doubt.

"You may be right, Luciusss, and we cannot have that, can we? Get a few of the lower servants to get a message to Dumbledore. We need to schedule an…appointment with the Potters," the Dark Lord said with a sinister smile. Lucius stood then bowed.

"As you command, my Lord," he said, and exited from the room.

Albus Dumbledore was not having a good day. Severus had very little information to offer up on Voldemort's current plans, and seventeen muggles had been killed when a street exploded (from magic causes, though the muggles didn't know that). Dumbledore sat down at his desk with a sigh and stroked the head of his phoenix, Fawkes.

"What are we to do, my friend?" Albus asked the bird. Fawkes cocked his head and put a sad expression on his face. If he could speak Albus knew he would have very little to say at the moment. Suddenly two dark figures came out of the shadows. Albus knew that they were Death Eaters, but he remained calm, as always. To lose one's head in a bad situation would only make the situation worse. "Good evening gentlemen," Albus said cordially. "What can I do for you today?"

"You can get the Potters. The Dark Lord wishes to speak with them," said one of them.

"You may remind them that if they do not comply," said the other, "then their children will not live to see Hogwarts."

"They must meet him tonight at midnight in the graveyard of Little Hangleton," said the first. Dumbledore nodded carefully.

"I'll be sure to tell them," he said.

"One other thing," continued the second. "They come alone." The two Death Eaters disappeared.

"I need to strengthen these wards," Dumbledore mumbled to himself as he grabbed a stack of parchment and a quill. He scrawled a note quickly and gave it to Fawkes. "Get this to James Potter as quickly as possible. I want no delays. Once you have finished, come straight back here. I need you to take another letter to some of the members of the Order. We're going to be strengthening these wards tonight." Fawkes screeched and was gone in a burst of flame. Albus massaged his forehead. This bad day was about to get a lot worse.

Lily and James Potter arrived in Dumbledore's office soon after they received his letter.

"Is everything all right, Professor?" James asked. The old Headmaster looked more tired and drawn than ever.

"No, James, all is not right. And you may call me Albus. You're not in school any longer," Albus said, repeating what he'd said for years. His former students never seemed to be able to call him Albus rather than Professor. He was touched that they respected him so, but it often became annoying. "I was visited by a pair of Death Eaters today. They said that you and Lily are to meet Voldemort himself in the graveyard at Little Hangleton today at midnight. I fear Voldemort has discovered that Harry may be another contender for the Prophecy." The color drained from both James and Lily's faces. "I imagine that Voldemort wants to make negotiations—most likely a trade. Your lives and your daughter's be spared at the price of your son. You must go quickly. I have a plan, but there is no telling if it will work or not. Return home, take the children to the Weasleys—I'll inform them of your impending arrival."

"Why can't Sirius take them?" James asked. Dumbledore sighed.

"James, you know that for years here has been a mole inside of the Order. We have no idea who it could be, but my suspicions lay mainly on four people, and you know that Sirius is one of them," Dumbledore answered.

"I know Sirius! He's my best mate—he'd never do anything like that. Besides, the children love Sirius. They know him—they've never even met the Weasleys! He's not the mole," James exclaimed.

"But what if he is the mole James? Are you willing to stake their lives on the idea that he isn't? Are you willing to put them in more danger than they are already in? If I didn't know that you and Lily both would strongly object, I'd have suggested the Dursleys. Knowing that they are ruled out, that leaves the Weasleys. I'm sorry James, Lily. But it has to be this way," Dumbledore replied. James shook his head.

"Fine. Do whatever it takes to keep them safe," James said then brusquely went to the fireplace. "Keep watch over them, Albus. I'm trusting you." Lily quickly nodded, the heartbreak and pain in her eyes blatantly obvious as she took her husband's hand and stepped up to the fireplace. "Godric's Hollow." The fireplace was engulfed in green flames and soon those flames swallowed the broken hearted parents. Once alone in his office Dumbledore put his head in his hands. There was nothing more that could be done.

Lily and James arrived in a small graveyard. Lily's hand was white as it clenched onto James. "We're going to die here, James," Lily said, tears in her eyes. "We're going to die here, and we can't protect Harry anymore."

"We've raised him right, Lily," James said. "He'll be ready to face him when the time comes. I know it." He squeezed her hand for comfort as dark figures began to appear everywhere. "Show yourself, you coward," James snarled into the air. "We came to deal with you, not your cronies."

"Ah, bravery. The euphemism for foolhardiness," said a cold voice from behind them. James and Lily whirled around to see the cruelly handsome face of Voldemort, his red eyes glinting. "I realize that I invited you here this evening, and I would not be so rude as to not make a personal appearance to my guests." Voldemort stopped and walked around the tombstones. He paused at one and smirked, putting his hand on the top of it, then sliding it down to trace the letters of the name. He looked back at Lily and James. "Do you know who this was? No, of course you don't. This is my father's grave. He and his family were the first people I killed when I left Hogwarts. It was fairly quick, fairly painless. He got more than he deserved." Voldemort smirked up at James and Lily, who both stood rooted to the spot, though both their hands were poised, ready to strike if necessary. "The only reason why I haven't killed you or your worthless brood yet is because I thought to myself the other day, the child in all likelihood has no knowledge of the prophecy that will one day be his demise. But I do. And I know that one day he will be very powerful. So wouldn't it be a better idea to raise him as my heir than kill him as my enemy? Unfortunately, he already has two, wonderfully loving parents," Voldemort laughed at that. "So, what a fun game, I thought. I can kill the both of you, possibly the girl as well, and step in as the fantastic parental figure when he's in a vulnerable time. With the aid of a little diary of mine and a few riggings within Hogwarts—such as a temporary spell on the hat that I'll put in place this year—I should be able to gain the boy's complete trust and adoration. But then, I thought, he might be a little upset that I killed you both. That might be his only turning point, the only reason why he might one day turn against me. But I can't very well send you home. So I'll keep you my prisoners, presumed dead. And one day, when your son has completed his training, I will reveal you to him—and have him kill you both himself." Voldemort smiled and patted the tomb. "And one day he will look down on your graves in the same way I look down on my father's now. With hate, and malice. But there is one thing he will not feel that I do—regret. Because I will make sure that the two of you get what you deserve in the end."

"Sick bastard!" James spat. "You'll never get away with this. He'll never join you!" Voldemort laughed at that.

"James, James. Come now. It's not that difficult to manipulate and corrupt an eleven-year-old. It's not difficult at all. And if you're wondering right now where in the bloody hell is the back up that Dumbledore promised you, it's fighting a losing battle against my death eaters a little further up the road. Dumbledore's one weakness was always his underestimation of me. They'll never know what has happened to you," Voldemort tapped the tomb with his wand and stairs appeared down into the depths. "You will never leave this prison—just know that the next time you see the light of day, it will be so your son can kill you. Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Potter." James leapt forward and shot a curse at Voldemort, but it was easily deflected and Voldemort threw a stunner at him just as Lily threw a curse at him. Using wandless magic Voldemort deflected that as well and threw out another stunner, aiming at Lily. It hit its mark. Voldemort approached her and grabbed her neck as nothing but her eyes could move and watch, horrified.

"Two on one? That's not very honorable, Mrs. Potter. You better watch yourself, or I'll make sure you're not very 'honorable' any more. Though I will not lower myself to touch mudblood flesh in such a way, I'm sure that some of my death eaters would be more than happy to oblige any such request I would make," he hissed and then dropped her. Voldemort lifted the two bodies into the air with a flick of his wand and set them down rather rudely in the crypt. "Oh, and just know that if you ever try to escape, it will not be your life that is in danger, but rather the life of your daughter. Have a nice stay," Voldemort said, right before lifting the stunners and sealing the entrance. With a smirk he turned to Lucius Malfoy, who had come up as he was taunting the Potters. "Take good care of them, Lucius. I need them well in tact." Voldemort tapped his dark mark to signal all death eaters to leave. With that both Lucius and Voldemort apparated away, along with dozens of other death eaters.

Less than a minute later Sirius Black was running across the cemetery grounds.

"James!" he called. "Lily!" He looked around in desperation. "JAMES!" he screamed. "LILY!" Remus ran up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"They're not here, Sirius. They've probably been abducted," he said, not wanting to voice the other possibility. The other man sunk to his knees, broken.

"No," he whispered.

"Sirius…" Remus found he could say nothing else.

"NO!" Sirius screamed. Remus gently dragged the hysterical Sirius to his feet and away from the cemetery, back to the gates where the other Order members looked on in grief and in pity for the sobbing man. "Too late. We're too late."

It would be many, many years before the two men realized the cold, cruel irony of the scene. It would be many, many years before they realized that they had been standing on top of Tom Riddle's grave, the very crypt in which James and Lily were imprisoned.

"I can't believe we just did that," Harry said, breathing hard. His mind and heart were racing.

"I can't either," Ginny agreed. Harry gently took his hand and ran it down the side of her face. He didn't understand this new feeling, but he knew what it was and it frightened him more than Voldemort ever had. He was certain that what he was feeling was what they called "love". "Um, we should probably get back." Harry snapped back to reality. What they had done was stupid. Whatever they had felt didn't belong to them. They couldn't feel such things. Those things belonged to a reality that had long since been lost to them. Harry nodded.

"Right," he replied as he got up. "They'll think I've abducted you if we're gone much longer." Their eyes met for a moment as they realized that what had just transpired was not for them to keep. They walked back to the house in silence, but once they arrived Harry spoke once more. "Ginny…" he began. "In another universe…another time…" Ginny shook her head.

"Don't Harry. I understand. We can't…we can't ever be together. Besides. Though I lo—have feelings for you, I still don't trust you," Ginny replied.

"And though I…have feelings for you…I know you never would be safe with me. I could never make you happy, Ginny. That much I know for sure," Harry said. AS they went inside they both mourned for a destiny that was long lost to them.

Rose, the Weasleys, Sirius and Remus sat in the living room. Harry stopped dead in the doorway, ready to leave the way he came.

"Harry, wait," coming from Sirius' mouth was the only thing that stopped him from doing so. "I apologize for my behavior yesterday. There were circumstances that I wasn't aware of."

"Don't apologize. You only voiced your opinion. Last time I checked, that's not a crime," Harry said. "You can't forgive me. You'll never be able to trust me. That's just a fact that applies to everyone in this room." Harry took a few steps away from the room, his back facing them. "Reform. It's a joke, a lie. No matter what you do, you can never truly be reformed, because you will never really convince all the people you've hurt in the past that you've reformed. The crimes you committed can never truly be wiped away. In the end of all this, when the war is over, you all will have no choice but to betray me. No matter what happens, no matter what good I do from here on out, I cannot change my past. No matter what, I'll be handed to the dementors to have my soul ripped from my body in the end." He turned to them, a perverse smile twisting his face. "At seventeen, I'm condemned to a fate worse than death itself. Aren't I?"

Harry's "family" stared guiltily back at him. They knew he spoke the truth—after the war, when the Order had no use for him, they would have little say over what would happen to him. They could hide him forever, true, but how long could that last?

"Your silence says all," he said and walked into the house, up the stairs and into his room. Downstairs, Sirius got up along with Remus.

"We tried," Sirius sighed. "Thanks for letting us try, Molly, Arthur." Mrs. Weasley nodded, a worried expression on her face. It was obvious she had not considered Harry's bleak future.

"Of course, Dear. You're welcome back any time," she said as Sirius and Remus gave Rose a goodbye hug. They left through the fireplace not long after that, and the Weasley family dispersed. Rose rushed to the twins' room.

"Rose," said Fred. "We have our plan all made up to get rid of him." Rose shook her head.

"I'm out. Listen, as much as I want him gone—as much as I know he's a horrible danger…I can't let him go. You heard what he said! He faces death or worse out there! There's no hope for him out there. I can't condemn him to that," she said.

"Fine," George said. "You don't have to participate. But he's still going to be gone within the week." Rose's eyes filled up with tears as she ran to her and Ginny's room. Unbeknownst to her, Harry was in his room, across the hall from Fred and George, and had listened to every word, but only four words stuck out.

"I want him gone."

Headmistress McGonagall sat at her desk, looking over the secret reports on Harry that Arthur had made up for her. He seemed…unstable. Like he didn't know what personality he had or what exactly he wanted. Overall he was dangerous and McGonagall had no idea what to do. She looked up at Dumbledore's portrait and sighed.

"What on earth shall I do Albus?" she asked. Professor Dumbledore shook his head.

"I am at a loss, Minerva. Whatever is done I am afraid will have grave consequences," he said. Minerva sighed and went back to flipping through the file. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Without looking up she answered, "Come in." Just as she was wondering what student would be bothering her with what problem she heard a greeting from a voice she had not heard in years.

"Hello, Minerva," said James Potter as he held tight to his wife's hand. "Long time, no see."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight 

A/N: Wow, after over a year of working on this it's difficult to believe that it's almost over. For all of you who have been faithfully reading despite the long time that it has been to post a mere eight chapters, thank you, and I hope you enjoy the ending. To all newcomers, thanks forgiving this rusty old fan fiction a chance! Thanks for everything, everyone! Please enjoy the much-awaited conclusion of Voldemort's Choice.

"_If I fall and all is lost, no light to lead the way, remember that all alone is where I belong."_

_--"Cloud Nine" by Evanescence_

_The One with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…_

Harry sat in his room, scratching away on a piece of parchment with a long quill. As he finished, he carefully folded the parchment and tucked it away in an envelope. He wrote the addressee's name on the front and left it there on his desk. Slowly he got up, sighed and took that envelope and another up to Ginny and Rose's room. Without bothering to knock he opened the door. Rose was inside, crying on her bed, but Harry ignored her. He went straight to Ginny's desk and placed the two envelopes inside.

"How long?" Harry asked. Rose looked up, confused, her face filled with tear stains.

"What?" she asked.

"How long have you wanted me gone?" Harry asked coldly as he shut the desk drawer. Rose's eyes widened.

"Oh, Harry…Harry, I love you, but…everyone is afraid of you…and the way you acted when we played Quidditch…Harry, you've just changed so much," she finished helplessly.

"Everyone's afraid of me. Damn straight," he snorted. "I expected them to be." His voice softened. "But I…I never thought you…my baby sister…would be afraid of me. I've driven everyone away…everyone. At twelve I ruined my life for forever. Maybe even before that." He sat next to her bed, his beautiful green eyes filled with tears and took her hand. "You know I love you, don't you, Rosie?" Rose burst into a fresh wave of tears. Rosie. She hadn't heard that name since Harry left. It was his special, teasing name for her. She nodded, not able to speak through her sobs. "That's all I needed you to know." He gave her a hug then got up to leave.

"Wait," she said. "W-wait! Where a-are you g-going?" her sobs broke her speech. He looked at her, pained.

"I have to do something that I should have done a long, long time ago," he said and turned to leave her room when a teary-eyed Mrs. Weasley came in.

"Harry, there you are. Harry, Rose, darling…there are some people downstairs to see you," she said. Rose, still confused, got up and followed her. Harry sighed, shook his head and tagged along, most certain that this new batch of people was here to ridicule and belittle him as well. When they descended the staircase, Harry stopped cold in his tracks while Rose raced to greet the newcomers.

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… 

"MUM! DAD!" she screamed and hugged them. They were crying, she was crying, they hugged one another fiercely. It was a picture perfect reunion. Not wanting to ruin the scene, Harry turned around to sneak back upstairs.

"Harry. Where do you think you're going?"

Harry turned slowly to look into the eyes of his father for the first time in six years.

"Dad?" Harry asked, his voice hoarse. James nodded.

"It's me, son," he said, and held out his arms. Against his better judgment, against everything he'd learned in the past six years, Harry ran straight to him and was enveloped in his father's arms.

"He said you were dead," Harry said, sobbing. James held onto him tighter.

"It doesn't matter, son. Whatever he did to you, whatever happened, we can put it behind us," said Lily as she enveloped him once James let him go.

"Mum," Harry said, and for one blissful moment, he allowed himself to forget. He allowed himself to let it all go—until it came back with a crushing force. Harry pulled away. "No." Lily looked at him, confused. Harry shook his head. "We can't put it behind us. As much as I wish…we can't. This doesn't change anything. I'm not the same person you left behind. I'm still wanted. This doesn't change what I have done. Everything has already been set in motion."

"What are you talking about, son?" James asked, confused, but before Harry could answer he fell to the ground, hissing in pain.

_And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,_

A light white lit up his arms and the top portion of his back and shoulders. When it stopped, there was a long tattoo of a snake running through that area. With a grunt, Harry got up and looked his entire family in the eye. He noticed that everyone was there. Sirius, Remus, his Mum, his Dad, the Weasleys, Rose and even Ginny. He looked each one of them in the eye in turn.

"This ends now," he said.

"Harry," Ginny said, stepping forward tentatively. "Harry, you can't do this by yourself."

"I won't be," he answered. "I have all of you."

But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… 

"What's going on?" James demanded. Harry looked up at them all.

"I have to kill Lord Voldemort."

_And either must die at the hand of the other,_

This simple statement caused an eruption of emotion. Everyone had different opinions.

"Alert the Order. Voldemort wants a final battle, and he wants it now. The graveyard at Little Hangleton will play host to us this evening," Harry said. "Let's go."

With that, everyone apparated from the house, except for James who quickly scrawled a note to Professor McGonagall. He gave it to the Weasley's old owl and patted its head.

"She's probably already been alerted by the Death Eaters," James said to the owl quietly. "But you must take this to Professor McGonagall. Fly as you've never flown before." With that the owl took off with a hoot. James shook his head. The owl would never make it in time. But it didn't matter. James was sure McGonagall already knew. With a crack he disapparated and the Weasley house was empty.

They all arrived at the graveyard in Little Hangleton. A battle was already going on. Aurors and members of the Order alike were fighting against Voldemort's evil minions.

"Ah, Harry. I have been waiting for you," Voldemort said as Harry arrived in front of him.

"I'm sure you have been," Harry said quietly. "So, Voldemort. How long were you plotting to steal me away from my parents and use me to your own sick advantage?" Voldemort smiled.

"I see I underestimated your genius, my young apprentice," Voldemort said. "This was my plan since I took your parents into captivity. I warned them about escaping. I told them I'd kill their daughter—and so was my intent, but I miscalculated. You weren't yet finished in your training. You couldn't bring yourself to kill your stupid sister."

"I didn't finish my brainwashing, you mean," Harry snorted. "You didn't need to 'train' me. I was good enough on my own. You just needed to rid me of all the emotions you didn't understand. Well, guess what, Tom? It didn't work."

"I can see that. I never thought that it would be you who would betray me," Voldemort said with a heavy sigh, and was about to continue but Harry interrupted him.

"No!" Harry shouted. "No! It was you who betrayed ME! You kept my parents captive when you told me they were already dead. You tried to kill my sister. You tried to kill the one woman I love deeply. You used a distraught child to your own sick advantage."

"Don't try and excuse your sins by placing the blame on me. You know that what you did was of your own accord," Voldemort hissed. Harry looked on him with cold eyes.

_For neither can live while the other survives…_

"Like hell I was trying to take the blame off myself. I was only saying that you are a sick psycho and don't deserve to walk this Earth anymore than I do. Your one weakness has always been in your underestimation of me. So Voldemort, I'll see you in hell," he said, and then he thought of everything that the sick man had done to him. He thought of his parents, stuck inside of a cell for six years. He thought of Rose, and how he'd missed so much of her life. He thought of Ginny, and how much love he had lost. "Avada Kedavra," Harry shouted the last, and, unable to comprehend that Harry had really uttered that phrase, Voldemort delayed too long in his conjuring of a shield and he was overtaken by the green burst of blinding light.

When everyone had their vision back, there was nothing left of Voldemort save a black mark on the ground from the explosion. Harry turned to the rest of the battle with his eyes as green as the curse. The battle had ceased; the Order was cheering and the Death Eaters were running with a few Aurors chasing after those surviving. Ginny, Rose, his parents and the Weasleys could only look on in awe, along with many others. Ginny and Rose had tears in their eyes. At the very least they understood what was about to happen.

"Harry," said Rose slowly, "Harry, you're a hero." Harry shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. Goodbye, everyone. One good deed doesn't make up for a lifetime of sin," Harry said, acknowledging the advancing Aurors. He put his wand to his heart.

"Harry!" Ginny sobbed.

_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_

"I love you, Ginny. Avada Kedavra," he whispered. There was another flash of green light, and Harry James Potter, the Snake and the Hero was no more.

_To my dear son:_

_What does a murderer about to die say to his not yet born child? Do I tell you the story of my life? Do I give advice? I have long since lost the memories of my own childhood—I haven't a clue what my own father would say. Your mother will tell you who I was, but I will tell you something that she cannot convey, because she can't completely understand._

_People will worship you and the same people will spit in your face. You are the son of the Snake, and if my plan goes as intended, the Hero as well. The Snake and the Hero—seems that should be two separate people, doesn't it? The truth is, it shouldn't. What is truly evil? What is truly good? True, I was never good. I murdered. Or I as good as murdered. But, what did I murder for? If someone told you that a young boy had recently lost his parents and been taken into a deep depression where one person—a bad influence—decided to be his friend, the only friend he had, and so the boy murdered because that was what his friend, his only friend, the only person in the world who cared about him, told him to do, what would you say? Would you say, that poor child? Would you say that he was misunderstood? Or would you say that he deserved to die, that he was a monster? It is all in the way you perceive the world you are presented with._

_Don't listen to people. Form your own opinions. Be manipulated by no one—but trust. God, please my boy, trust. Trust that you will always be loved by someone. Trust in all that is Light and Good. Trust that someone will always be there for you. Trust others. Trust in yourself and your own integrity. Never doubt. Never become guarded. Keep an open mind._

_You will be spat on, you will be revered—all by people. People are forgiving and unforgiving. People are fickle. Don't be like all other people. Be like you. You are my son. Though you are not yet born and hardly have been conceived I love you. I love you with all the love my hardened heart can give._

_If one day you wonder why I did what I did, just remember this:_

_I love you. But one good deed doesn't make up for a lifetime of sin._

_Your Loving Father,_

_Harry James Potter_


End file.
